sprovence
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C. Clemens, Deep Time Pearl
Chris Clemens Deep Time Pearl Once I dreamed I was a pearldeep beneath the blueejected from my shelly bedtangled up, askewa little push, a tiny shoveforever missing oyster’s loveI try to wake, but can’t – you seepearl time moves quite differentlya hundred years or more might passand a pearl would never know Chris Clemens lives…
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T. Jenne, Blood Moon
Taisa Jenne Blood Moon Look!Low moon.Blood-blown.Blooms.Not of hollyor thorn wood,not of pondor coy brook.Moon of ghosts.Moon of gold gloss.Moon of blood on snow,of cold floods,of old, old worlds. Taisa Jenne is a writer, poet and educator living on Wet’suwet’en territory in Northwest Canada. Back to Issue
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J. Bomster, Adam’s Wives
Johannah Bomster Adam’s Wives There’s a man and a woman.A tree in a yard. A car in the drive. They could be any manand any women standing side by side.Back then, the tree so young the mancan wrap his fingers right around it,and then the woman saysI’m not cutting my hair just for you.She has…
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M. Kirby, The Fool and her Dog
Merie Kirby The Fool and her Dog Only one card in the classic deck features winter: the five of pentacles, the card of your own misery hobbling barefoot and inadequately clothed through snow while everyone else is snug in a building whose stained glass windows glow like vacation photos from the tropics. But here I…
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TR Poulson, Venn Diagrams
TR Poulson Venn Diagrams A circle, labeled canines, shaded blue, will always hold smaller ones inside. The wolves in midnight, dogs in sky, so close the two might touch. But what about chasers and chased? In dating apps, rings mingle like drops of paint. Blood red and sea foam dance to make dessert. I archive…
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S. Clark, Species
Sarah CR Clark 120 + 1 species of Sepiida When the end comesyou can have my standard-issue space suitI would rather refashion my skininto a cuttlefish here at homeadapting at the speed of thoughtNOW red with bumps to blend into coralNOW pulse black and white to hypnotizeI will glide through the turquoise sea not the…
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W. D. Hubbard, Afterword
Wayne Hubbard Afterword for Mary Oliveri can say what i want, but the poems are no more accidental. their outlinesstay present, trailing me through each season,waiting for stillness to give life its chance.they teach me how to study the winter,how to note where the redbud leans forwardinto the frostbite, how the wild grass lets the…
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J. Prinsen, Seasons in the Sun
Jeannie Prinsen Seasons in the Sun Autumn road trip, New England woodsa crazy quilt spread before us. Heading home,we stopped for fast food – seventies popon the sound system, the two of us cry-laughing at the shallow lyrics, cheaprhymes like air, there, everywhere,Big Mac with a side of cheesy reverb.We were immune to pathos, swivelingon…
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S. Lang, Unprepared
Susanna Lang Unprepared The cold shouldn’t have taken me by surprise, but I’m not ready. Can’t find my mittens, my wool socks have last winter’s holes. Roses and snapdragons freeze to their stems, still in their summer colors. Gingkos drop their yellow leaves.I hear the cries before I see the swirling V’s— hundreds of wide-winged…
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D, McVey, Daniel McKelvie
David McVey Daniel McKelvie The organist played some slow Scottish psalm tunes. The congregation was a mixed bag, and many of them had hardly known Daniel McKelvie. Yes, there were some close friends and family, but their focus was more on the reading of the will, which was due next day. Many of the others…