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    BETWEEN THE SEASONS by W. Jude Aher

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    BETWEEN THE SEASONSby W. Jude Aher between the seasons ice carved as lightdreamsshadows castingall the lost imagesbelievingbeyond the taste ofblood illusionsongs conceivingsky frozen blueclear mindsoul yearningto...

    SHOULDER TO STONE by Tim Rodriguez

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        SHOULDER TO STONEby Timothy Rodriguez   Double-thinkersopen the windowto flee this worthless limbowhich goes wantingeven though Understandingof right or wrongactually stood its groundwhile all around satamong mumbles on stepsand stoops in hopesof being cast...

    BIG HEADED ANNA by Stephanie E. Dickinson

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    big headed annaBy Stephanie E. Dickinson New Orleans, Louisiana. 1913. Yearning. Big-Headed Anna Imagines Herself asa Strange, Beautiful Name *

    A PLACE WITHOUT JARS by Graham McLennan

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    A PLACE WITHOUT THE JARSby Graham McLennan UNTITLED XVI Amenability unboundby dying oaks holdinga city built uponthe wrist bones of youthaware of their timelytrial of agingdeterioration...

    FREEDOM by Razmik Grigoryan, translated by Maro Ghukasyan

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    FREEDOM by Razmik Grigoryan, translated by  Maro Ghukasyan  When I understood                                                                   that the start of triumph                                                             is made on defeat,I let you goon the last day ofmy...

    THE WAR’S SON by Anwer Ghani

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    THE WAR'S SONby Anwer Ghani The War ’s Son The soldiers have returned but the capitals of my chants are still whizzing like a slim mosquito...

    SOMETHING BLUE by Heather Lee Rogers

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        SOMETHING BLUEby Heather Lee Rogers    Nuclear Fission You see our lovewas just good chemistrythose first date cocktails ofraw pheromonesand evolutionary drive,despite your egowe are not divinejust well-dressed test tubesmixing atomsand hot moleculesso when our...

    ESPERANZA by Manuel Madera

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    ESPERANZAby Manuel Madera A Follower OF Desolation There is not muchI do when I thinkOf the birchesResting in the woods. Once in a...

    BLUES BUSKER by John Sweeder

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    BLUES BUSKERby John Sweeder  Blues Busker The young mancradles his harmonicawith cupped handscaressing it with his soul,coaxing emotionfrom its compact formas poets do with pens.

    THERE WAS TIME by Dean Baltesson

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    THERE WAS TIMEBy Dean Baltesson There Was Time There was a timewhen time was in store for uswe discovered a summerand we wanted lovewanted so much...