..:: CONTENTS ::..

   Volume X, Issue I

..:: POETRY ::..

..:: PROSE ::..

..:: ETC ::..
   Contributor's Notes

..:: ARCHIVES ::..
   Volume I, Issue I
   Volume I, Issue II
   Volume II, Issue I
   Volume II, Issue II
   Volume III, Issue I
   Volume III, Issue II
   Volume IV, Issue I
   Volume IV, Issue II
   Volume V, Issue I
   Volume V, Issue II
   Volume VI, Issue I
   Volume VI, Issue II
   Volume VII, Issue I
   Volume VII, Issue II
   Volume VIII, Issue I
   Volume VIII, Issue II
   Volume IX, Issue I
   Volume IX, Issue II


Sheila Murphy


Say you sport a madras shirt in yarn white,
blemishing the furtive avenue.

Rinse the damages until the hemp of clarinet
goes bronze, then situate experience where it rests.

Rapport condones immersion therapy
unless you brave the lawn, the leaves, the voyage.

Salt remains an iteration of the rock's eroding
fractionally, a dramaturge in sotto heat.

Matriculate to weather in the way
you have been taught, by sweet sense called olfactory.



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