They've made a home in the borders
My poem "Colonial" has been accepted by Mithila Review. There's a strange chime of timing: I wrote it last spring during the protests when the federal government had just designated anti-fascism a form of terrorism, as opposed to the patriotism of attempted coups. The longer fuse was the information about my ancestry which had come to light the previous fall, namely that all my life I had been used to thinking of myself as descended from immigrants on the margins and suddenly there was a recognizable name on the rolls of the Massachusetts Bay Colony in 1636. It does not change my responsibilities to this country's present and future, but it is the reality of the past. I am very pleased that the poem will have this home, especially now.

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That is a pretty sweet-looking ancestral museum.
I don't know much about who married into or out of the family, but I tend to assume that the colonial families far enough back stand a strong chance of interrelation. Hence wondering about me and
We were over on the second boat after the Mayflower, which is one of those "colonialist history also-rans" situations, I guess.
That's sort of hilarious.
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If we'd been on the first boat I could wear one of those gigantic Mayflower Society crests on my blazer, which is the sort of hilarious colonialist camp I'd probably actually go for. Sadly when your ancestors were like, "You go check it out, Bill, we'll catch up!" there is no participation award. I mean, aside from the continent. Which, let's be fair, is a pretty sweet I Showed Up For Colonization prize.
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(Our previous rental was a fairly new townhouse, but so badly wired I think it was a paranormal lightning rod.)
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Probably a grift but if he’s serious-- my man, I’ve read M. R. James – if a curse is after you a conventional security detail is not going to be any help. Your only hope might be to locate the runes and mark them Return to Sender, but it’s going to take lots of skills.
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