Amarillo Bay Contents
Volume 4 Number 3
We are pleased to present our current issue, published on Monday, August 5, 2002. We hope you enjoy browsing through our more than 100 pieces of fiction, creative nonfiction, and poetry! (See the Previous Issues list to learn about all the works in our collection.)
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Center for Advanced Thought
by G. W. Clift
As Bridgy said, I'm currently a Fellow at the institution. I'm here, oddly enough, because my books found a popular audience and because--perhaps consequently--my last Dean (there, hanging on the wall) couldn't "find the money" to meet my new salary expectations. A couple of our Fellows are with us because their political party is "out" just now--one will probably get a cabinet seat next time they're "in." One is a retired senator; had he been a lawyer he would have gone to work as a partner in some D.C. firm, lobbying for industry or foreign interests rather than for ideas, which is essentially what most of the Fellows here do. There are over a dozen of us altogether, and three or four appear as experts fairly regularly on the cable television news channels. All the Fellows teach--an occasional seminar, nothing very demanding. And I spend much of my time reading newspapers, supposedly adding to my stock of examples for additional media criticism, which is probably an odd undertaking for a man who had devoted his academic life to the study of Assyrian art, don't you think?
"I'll Go No More A Roving With You Fair Maid"
by Irving A. Greenfield
Portsmouth! He'd come for a taste of history. The HMS Victory, Admiral Nelson's flagship during the battle of Trafalgar, was berthed there, and he wanted to see it. A whim, really! He wasn't even a history scholar or even that much of a buff. He was a geologist, whose specialty was locating under-sea oil deposits for the large oil producing companies.
A Far Distant Place
by Elizabeth Routen
Hubie didn't have one like it. Neither did Karl. It could be said, in fact, that no one the whole length and breadth of Eindhoven, such as it was, had one like it. Not then, at least. Not in 1944.
The Red Boat
by Russell Kesler
Sunday morning. Dad starts the Chevrolet, Mother adjusts her hat, and we begin the familiar ride to church. We sit in comfortable silence, Mother occasionally commenting on someone's camellias in bloom, or an addition to a house along the way. Though I'm not yet tall enough to look straight out the window, I know, by the turns we make and the changing pitch of the tires on different streets, where we are. I know that when the row of tall sable palms glides by we're on the road that traverses the lake. And when the live oak and baldcypress appear, I know it's time to sit up straight and look at the boat.
Two Days in September
by Roberto Pachecano
(On September 3, 1967, North Vietnamese gunners fired forty-one artillery rounds into Dong Ha Combat Base. The ammunition dump sustained a direct hit touching off one of the most spectacular series of explosions in the war.)
"Oh, my God!" the kid screams, his voice joining the discord of emotional lament. The kid is in shock. Partially dried, dark blood stains his forehead. Like the others seeking sanctuary from the terror plunging from the sky, he reacts instinctively by jumping into the first cubbyhole he can find. The density of the dust that hangs in the air chokes him. He struggles to breathe. The morning sunlight dims within seconds.
When My Father Whistled
by Cris Barnet
When my father whistled
All four of us
Each in itchy inches
Lugged our shovels
by Rich Furman
I don't want to have bad sex she said,
I only like to have, am willing to have, good sex.
Do You Speak French?
by Farida Mihoub
When I saw her at the video store,
she reminded me of an old friend,
I nearly approached her and asked
her if she spoke French.
Talk to Me
by Farida Mihoub
Talk to me while I am sleeping.
Tell me that you are thinking of me,
and that you got home safely.
by Sam Vaknin
The little things we do together
to give up life.
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