Elliot Ray Neiderland, home from college …
B. H. Fairchild
In his fifth year the son, deep in the backseat …
Outside my window the wasps …
All things fall away: store fronts on the west, …
I am so young that I am still in love …
The heavy bodies lunge, the broken language …
Like the blue angels of the nativity, the museum patrons …
As a kid sitting in a yellow vinyl …