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Steven Bridenbaugh's Writings

Poem
Apr.19.2013
There are a lot of places in Montana I would not call home. Icy, windswept peaks that you leave as quickly as you can.Bars where you aren't welcome.Rivers that drag you over the rocks. Driving into Billings one summer nightThe sky suddenly implausible, a maze of starsI was overwhelmed by the fragrance of treesI passed an avenue of gigantic ruined cottonwoodsOver...
Essay
Jan.16.2013
Open Salon
                Always carry a little bottle of air of the moon, to keep you from drowning.                A medicinal poem, mending by draughts: The Moon, by Jaime Sabines I'm flying on a plane to Denver. I was lucky to get...
Essay
Jan.16.2013
Open Salon
  A jaw harp It had been rainy for the past several months, and I had all the symptoms of cabin fever. I should say I suffered from depression, and to fight it, I bought a new bottle of vitamins, which I took daily with my Omega 3 pills, and I spent more time at the Health Club. One day, I went into a music store, and on an impulse, I bought a jaw harp...
Short Story
Jan.16.2013
Open Salon
La maison Dumas                     “Woodstock is the great American orgy. This is who the  Democratic Party has become.      They have become the party of Woodstock.  They prey upon our most basic primal lusts, and that’s sex. ”   -...