East End Beacon
harvest vegetables

The Poem: Harvest by Thomas Mitchell

  The night sky opens its starry picture book: an archer, a bear, a winged horse. And a thousand miles east, in North Platte, I know you see them too. The house is empty, only the coffee


six eggs

The Poem: “Six” by Billy Hands

Everybody seemed so much older than me. I checked their cards on the counter as they walked through the front door. Saw the grey in their beards heard the click in their knees the apple in their bonnet and the hope


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