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    REBIRTH AT SAGES RAVINE by Ron Roman

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    “Late Summer Sunday Afternoon Hike” Hiking late summer Sunday afternoon,Sun yet strong still.What does it matter,Where do we go? Venule-shaped verdant leaves,Now surround me everywhere.Colorless sky...

    ROSARY IN VACUUM by Shivangi Mishra

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    I. What Colour is Peace and Home? Is it to consume the gothic or expend the sublime?Would coloured value survive in white that seethes number?For all known times, when...

    THE BODY NEEDS BLOOD by Ruth Niemiec

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    The Body Needs Blood My father smoked cigarettes,pack a day,enough to punctuate every sentence with a coughI began to wait for a cough at the end of each sentenceSome...

    WRITERS’S BLOCK by Bernadette Dickenson

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    WRITERS’S BLOCK Words scuttle around the squaremarking the edge of my mindrunning in chaosfrom corner to cornerupstairs and downstairsnot lingering on the landing for restI struggle to put them...

    ON THE BASIS OF SELFLOVE by Ann Huang

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    The Rights of A Girl In summer solstice, lightning in midnightpulls you from cosmos—rain stormsthe waterscapesYou walk backward, making space aboutthe need to start becoming. To thosewhom you see...

    GAME OF THREE by Lucia Coppola

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    THE SNAKE Coiled up by the side of the trackswhile the train whizzes past, kicks up dead leavesthe overcast chill drizzles down fog and dreamsproject onto his reptilian stare...

    THEME FOR THE ETERNAL NOW by John Sweet

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    why i dreamt of the west coast a suicide maybe bitter taste ofabandoned hope says he hates her saysshe hates him and then...
    David Lenna

    THE SADDEST THING I’VE EVER SEEN by David Lenna

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    The Saddest Thing I’ve Ever Seen (Chapter I) My left palm still hurts. Going, preparing without a backpack on my back. My left palm still hurts so much that...

    REFLECTION by Jane Muschenetz

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    Miracles Previously Unnoticed I longed for poetry and doom-scrolleduntil headlines separated from the screen and breathedin sighs, like teenagers,we sent each other music audio filesand slowly began to speak...

    ANOTHER MORNING by John Drudge

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    My Streets HobbledBy a narrowStoic universeOwing nothingTo anyoneAloneOn the cobbled stonesWith an airy desperationFirm in my pocketAnd hiddenFrom everythingWorth hiding fromFrom anythingUnseenBelow the waterlineAlong the swiftSwollen riverWith the dark...