Tag Archives: Kevin Brown

by Kevin Brown

Faced with fire, I would forego the photo
albums—polaroids of birthday parties
and family trips to the beach held together

by yellowing tape—leave the quilt my
grandmother made, even financial files
for retirement.  Doug and I watch  Continue reading →

by Kevin Brown

The cubicle congregation had gathered
on Tuesday morning, Lisa looking
at her screen, she the one who noticed
the news: Some science guy says we would live Continue reading →

by Kevin Brown

On my way to work one morning, I noticed
a billboard of bodies, skin flayed away,
leaving only men with muscles, some

macabre–or medical–museum exhibit.
And I was reminded of Ralph, the cat
I kept for one semester of sophomore Continue reading →