by David BudbillSuddenly, The Angel of the Lord, a waitress, is standing in the road in front of Antoine, Doug and Tommy, her hands outstretched and up, palms turned in--the gesture of a blessing.THE ANGEL OF THE LORDThe Lord be with you.ANTOINE (automatically)And with thy spirit. The Angel begins a little hesitantly, unsure of herself. … [Read more...] about Excerpt from A PULP CUTTERS’ NATIVITY
David Budbill.
MORE AND MORE NOW
by David Budbill More and More Now I want to sayless and less chickadeeacorn squash firewoodmaple leaves chrysanthemumsilence … [Read more...] about MORE AND MORE NOW
DRIVING HOME AT NIGHT
by David Budbill Midnight. Outside the car it is 15 below. A foot of new snow. The village is deserted, dark, except for eight street lamps and the light in the window at Jerry's Garage that says: BEER. The smell of woodsmoke seeps into the car. Judevine, ugliest town in northern Vermont, except maybe East Judevine. Disheveled, wretched, … [Read more...] about DRIVING HOME AT NIGHT
THIRTY-FIVE YEARS ALONE
by David Budbill Thirty-five years alone at the foot of Judevine mountain raising vegetables, cutting firewood, talking to the birds and making poems, hasn't exactly made Judevine Mountain a household word in the poetry academy. Once a friend recommended him to the academy and they all cried, Who's this Judevine Mountain guy? Another friend--who … [Read more...] about THIRTY-FIVE YEARS ALONE
Early June
by David Budbill hard rain all night morning rags of mist hang scattered here and there between the blue-green hills … [Read more...] about Early June