Volume 2, Number 2
March 30, 2001
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| Table of Contents | Headwaters |
| Editor's Notes | |
| "Coming to My Senses" Charles Bowden | I want to eat the dirt and lick the rock. |
| "World Without Walter" Anne Hull | In the early 1960s, Walter Elias Disney took a plane ride over Florida. |
| "The Grey Cat" Anne Benson | When you clean out a child's room after she has left home, you will be sure to find precious objects, artifacts that tug at memories in such a way that it has been impossible for anyone to throw them out. |
| "Fear of Drowning" Andrew McKenna | You dread drowning, but you wanted to learn to swim. |
| "Birthday" Bill Roorbach | My dad calls a couple of times, but I'm out walking. |
| "Shifting Ground" Ann M. Bauer | They both pull forward at the same time and you hit the brake because you feel as if you're sliding backward. |
| "The Only Honest Man" Christopher Scanlan | My grandfather introduced the Charleston to Paris. |
| "Back in the USSR" Stephen Benz | When the train lifted from the tracks I awoke, thinking I was back in the U.S.S.R. |
| "Proof: A Preface" Deborah Y. Abramson | We are story tellers, story seekers. |
| "Kissing My Cousin" Sean Kernan | A blue line of light drew itself out slowly above the far black hills. |
| "On Eating My Words" Margaret Kent Bass | I don't know which revelation shocked my devoutly Christian family more: my acknowledgment of my lesbian relationship or my reluctant and quiet announcement that "she's white." |
| "Get Your Hat, Your Coat, Say Good-bye to Your Friends, and Follow Me" William Greenway | What I remember most about boot camp was my feet frying on the grinder, the concrete acre in the Delta sun where we marched all day, or ran in our wool watch coats with rifles over our heads. |
| "On Being a Mistress" Marie Nasta | Sometimes, if I am dozing, I miss the first sign; he reaches his left arm over me, so that his wrist meets the fingers of his right hand, which is on the pillow above my head. |
| "Valmiki's Palm" David James Duncan | "In the Beginning," says the Brihadaranyaka Upanisad: a scripture composed, according to the rishis of ancient India, by no one; a scripture self-created, found floating like mist, or the bands of a rainbow, in the primordial forest air, "there was nothing here at all . . ." |
Contributors' Notes
Keywords: 2-2
