The View from Kennedy’s Inaugural Podium and from the Bottom of Baltimore Harbor
An Homage to Robert Frost
By Scott Seward Smith
Last week I wrote of poetry as a unique consolation in troubled times. I did not have the space to address another use: poetry in praise of the state. I had in mind Robert Frost’s “Dedication” written for Kennedy’s inauguration. It began…
New Fiction: The November Guest
By Tom Cosentino
Homer Wheaton, widower, lived alone in a stone cottage at the end of a long gravel driveway that was lined with majestic sugar maples. The cottage, as meticulously groomed and refined as any English country house, was situated on forty-four acres outside the small college town of Cazenovia, New York.
It had been over twenty years since his wife, Faith, died in a car accident. She had been driven off the road by a tractor trailer belonging to one of the big box stores. The driver had fallen asleep after working three straight twelve hour shifts; the after Thanksgiving sales had pushed the chain to stretch the limits of sleep and sanity…
