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Tag Archives: Steve Lambert
Just below the Bible Belt in the soul-heavy subtropics I contrive a theology for myself. This is the place for it, deep illusion, has been for hundreds of years. I shake dead leaves from trees and eat exotic fruits off … Continue reading
Dad warned he’d never wake me a third time on school mornings, so when I resisted, could not bring myself to rise and face those adolescent days, he bombarded me with shoes or rolled me out of bed with a … Continue reading
For Abigail Ann You were born at night, Florence, six weeks early, with war. We must have craved you here. Bush bombed Baghdad while we fought you screaming into a dark room. I was born at night, too, you know, … Continue reading
“Euphemism is a beautiful word,” he said into the quiet cab of the car. “Are you ignoring me?” He looked in the rearview at his daughters. His wife was in the passenger seat reading People. “I don’t like being ignored.” … Continue reading
In this urban core you fall facedown or float. There’s no magic in dying. We all know how to do it. But being dead must be boring. Here, where the homeless have the best phones, Hanging up is the same … Continue reading
My earliest memories are of me being filthy. And jittery. Being quiet. Playing doctor with the daughter of a family friend. Getting caught, being ashamed. Occasionally, serious shit went down. Mom threw things at dad. Dad went away mad and … Continue reading
In an unincorporated shit-area of Polk County, Florida, on Tarpon Rd, there was a family that lived in a school bus. Fruit pickers. Mom, dad, a daughter, and four burr-headed boys, Preternaturally mean, ranging in age from four to sixteen, … Continue reading