Barbara Harroun

Blood Demands | Barbara Harroun

~For William

Let us speak of the risen
moon, and the blood stain
of the setting sun on the waters
of anguish and ecstasy; all the rip
tide currents that pull us under

Holy Like That | Barbara Harroun

Joanne takes one look at me and saunters to the juice fridge. She hands me a cold V-8. She doesn’t say anything, just gives me her look; part-disappointed, part-pissed, part-what-are-you-doing-with-your life.

Migration | Barbara Harroun

I drove across the Wabash River to my friend Lesha’s attic apartment. It must have been April or early May. It was midafternoon, and the plan was to get stoned with her next-door neighbor and then drive to Jasper-Pulaski Fish & Wildlife Area to watch the migrating Sand Hill…