By Bill Cotter
William Cotter poem on Right Now

The river that rumbled through winter
And survived the welting winds and the sun each summer,
Limps, now, fitfully, through putty mud.
Along the scoured banks the dry roots of trees curl upon themselves.
Where grey teals pelted the sky with wings
And splashed down like bursting shrapnel,
Sour pools remain
And in them lie bloated, eyeless fish.
In the shrinking shallows wallow cod,
Grotesque as stranded submarines

And upstream
The greedy run their fingers through rivers of cotton and rice.


Hysteria: a Review

By Maria Griffin

Hysteria is self-described as “A memoir of illness, strength and women’s stories throughout history.” In this book, Bryant tells her own journey of diagnoses, what she learns about them, and historical case studies with an equivalent diagnosis.