Amarillo Bay Contents
Volume 3 Number 4

Current Issue

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We are pleased to present our latest issue, published on Monday, November 5, 2001. We hope you enjoy browsing through our more than 90 pieces of fiction, creative nonfiction, and poetry! (See the Previous Issues list to learn about all the works in our collection.)


Little Jack
by Jonathan Garner
Michael rose to somewhat muted applause from the league of hungry businessmen swelling before him. The assembled group were mainly bankers, insurance executives and private healthcare directors, most of whom Michael sensed were waiting more in anticipation of their continental breakfast than his morning serving of rhetoric and promises.

Looking for a Miracle
by Andrew Geyer
Eddy was down on his knees at the foot of the last shrub of the day, a pink-bloomer. Crepe myrtle blossoms puffed like cotton candy above his head. He caught the steady, stale-moldy reek of the pine straw bed he could feel his knees sink into, and through the back bank of windows at the Booth place he could see the Braves taking on the Astros on the bigscreen TV in the den. The Braves had men on base--two or three, he guessed. He could see the dark curves of Beulah Booth's body against their white uniforms as she did a slow striptease in front of the screen.

Man to Man
by Irving A. Greenfield
I was at the wheel. Victor--Dr. Victor Penetta--sat next to me. In the vernacular of the Old West, which he would never use, he was riding shotgun. Though it was a hot humid August afternoon, Victor wore a light tan sport jacket, with a three-pointed white handkerchief in the breast pocket, a long sleeved white shirt, and a dark brown tie the same color as his slacks.

Creative Nonfiction

Don't Dance -- Don't Wanna: A Twelve-Step Approach to Country-and-Western Dancing
by Jerry Bradley
When two people fall in love with one another, generally one of them has a habit that is almost insufferably irritating to the other. Rita's habit is she loves to dance. I don't.


September Snow
by Janet I. Buck
Hand to chest in stadiums,
an anthem rolls in choppy
cartwheels on the grass.
Photos speak of wasted milk
in cartons of our liberty.

Cuban Love Songs
by Charles Levenstein
I cry with the slightest excuse:
Cuban love songs,
Cancer in movies,
Self-sacrifice by mother cats,

by Charles Levenstein
Emily sits cross-legged
in her grandmother's chair

Everything I Know Must Be Passed On
by Charles Levenstein
The day starts in fog,
the wind blows in vaporous gusts.
The leaves love this gentle touch.
All life thrives in an island's humid breath.

The Autopsy of the Broken-Hearted
by Elizabeth White
When the surgeons looked inside, his arteries
resembled overrun highway rather than
dark canals. His heart, a burned city, shone
with new darkness. Smoke arose from his
clipped veins. He had no airplanes,
no laughter, no streams but those unstrung,
no songs.

by Elizabeth White
My mother first opened the door of the page.
Sitting on her lap I heard the steady road
of words. She took me to where rabbits
wore shoes, the moon kissed rooms as it went by,
and children could fly.

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