Radical Romance: Realities/ C.D. Sorrell

  Wool jacket fastened halfway up, buttons catching the light like June Bugs Drawing close, he whispers like a branch, one leaf rubbing another Home comes through in the ripples in the lake as the cool wind brings me back Summer in Razliv with the founder, the radical, the will-be revolutionary He speaks words like…

Radical Romance: Dear Emma Goldman/ A. Jancewicz

My front garden will be full of daffodils. I will hang a black flag from the porch. You could read Kropotkin out loud to the children before bed. No matter my exhortations, they still ask for princes.