by Brian Dickson<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
She ferries the neighborhood Across the street once stood Police repelled into windows, bud<\/em>. from those fully armored outfits flood- The school was sold last week\u2026It\u2019s understood<\/em> Anyway, my zucchini are withering duds,<\/em> <\/p>\n When not teaching at the Community College of Denver, Brian Dickson avoids driving to connect with the quotidian around him, hang and shoot hoops. He is also an associate editor of New Feathers Anthology<\/em>. Past publications include two chapbooks, In a Heart\u2019s Rut <\/em>(HighFive press), Maybe This is How Tides Work<\/em> (Finishing Line Press), and one book, All Points Radiant<\/em> (WordTech, Cherry Grove Editions) and various journals, most recently Bodega Mag<\/em>. His forthcoming chapbook, A Child\u2019s Sketch of the Afterlife<\/em>, is expected to arrive in 2025 from Finishing Line Press.<\/p>\n
\nsayin\u2019 been here for thirty years,<\/em>
\nbeen hoping for something good.<\/em><\/p>\n
\nthe closed school. Lost tears
\nshe ferries in the neighborhood.<\/p>\n
\nActive shooter trainings, you know?<\/em> Fears
\nand hopes of something good<\/p>\n
\ning its roofs. She says take the tour<\/em>, hear
\ncardboard targets echo in the neighborhood.<\/p>\n
\nthe Catholics have the money<\/em> she says, near<\/em>
\ntwenty million. Better be good.<\/em><\/p>\n
\nSo are Stacey\u2019s down the block. Her<\/em>
\nkids run wild in the neighborhood.<\/em>
\nWe are hoping for something good.<\/p>\n
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