Wild River Review art by Christopher McCauley

VOLUME 1 — NUMBER 1





Essays


We gave my old couch to a family of Cubans who came to America, a family who could no longer go on living under Castro and still call their lives their own.


More than anything else in the world I liked music. If anyone were to ask what kind of music I preferred in my childhood, what instrument or musician, I’d have to say it was the sound of a scythe being hammered.