DEAR HERON by Danielle Hanson

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DEAR HERONBy Danielle Hanson Dear Heron You have grown tired of my presence.I am a ghost haunting the wrong house.You are the knowing inhabitant of my ineffectiveness.I am what happens in the hour when clocks fall...

CAPRICCIO – By Maureen Eppstein

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CAPRICCIOBy Maureen Eppstein  Capricciofor no reasonIl capro, the goat on the hillsudden, unpredictable change, as of one's mindhip-hobble, hip-hobblesomersaultscartwheelssunlight on white daisieson the verge of a city street, a dusty sunflowera garden planted with whirligigsamethyst...

THIS IS THE LIGHT by Scott Waters

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THIS IS THE LIGHTby Scott Waters Leaving the Cove City lights flicker like candlesburning the hem of 5 a.m. I finish my bowl of cereallace up my shoesand wrap my hand aroundthe door knob like a fly fisherman...

WALKING by Patrick Hurley

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WALKING…selectionsBy Patrick Hurley *** letters and numbers convergethen dissolve into pure sound suddenly visible in the pavementa repeated pattern of circles late sounds come to usapproaching dissonance beautifully eyes burn and water–the airborne miasma each cold breath a knife bladeand...

FÍBULA Poemas por Manuel Neto dos Santos

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Manuel Neto dos SantosNasceu em Alcantarilha (Silves-Algarve) a 21 de Janeiro de 1959.Frequência superior em filosofia. Autor de vastíssima e multifacetada obra poética, grande parte dela ainda inédita. Nas suas 16 obras já editadas,...

PEN SAND by Luke Skoza

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LOVEby Katharine Studer Love Before the word is spokenA man might walk on handsDangling mid-air without a net or wire,Concentrating to keep the weightof his legs extended straight in the center,Nudging his fingers to gain an...

VICTORY PARTY by Ted Millar

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I Accept I've been carrying around questions for the treatment facility in...

WITHOUT YOU by Ann Christine Tabaka

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WITHOUT YOUby Ann Christine Tabaka Without You A thousand years agoit came to be, or so itseems. It spit my heartin two, or so it felt. Emotions drift upona waft of smoke, burningmy eyes once more.Past’s subtle...

SOFTLY ABOVE by Roger Singer

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SOFTLY ABOVE the last clouds of dayare rooms overthe ocean,curtains of moisturereabsorbed,exposing aa carpet of stars,glistening sweetnessnourished by angelsas we trespassbeneath heaven WET rainy citygray on grayblack streetsclouds pressed lowshoulders in the misteach puddlea fluid fingerprintreflectingjagged photosof...

IN A PORTUGUESE FIELD by George Moore

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IN A PORTUGUESE FIELDby George Moore In a Portuguese Field A dolmen by abandoned railsthat cross this terrible, empty fieldin lower Europe, and the gravetoppled sometime in the first centuryand near the rusted tracksstill ringing with...