by Charles Harper Webb | Feb 9, 2016
Does not the world—that fat lout— stomp on their corns, hard? Do they not starve for sweets that, eaten, stab their cavities? Let them aouga as you make a legal left. Let them howl as you drop the last on-sale angelfood cake into your cart just as they run up,...
by Charles Harper Webb | Jan 28, 2014
The corn has stopped whispering, “Rise,” and waits in silence for high clouds to bend in rain. Across the highway, soybean bushes crouch like green dogs wolfing bowls of earth. The actors in the hit play Boomermania wake, achy-boned, with ancient jingles in their...
