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..:: CONTENTS ::..
   Volume I, Issue II

..:: POETRY ::..

..:: PROSE ::..
..:: ART ::..
..:: REVIEWS ::..
..:: 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

Mark Kanak


From the waisted department we
heard word of 357 beats a minute
and thawed electricity
at the gate; of flickering oedipus
and ensilage cutters to free
our entangled performers;
of detonation limits and lights on
the audience [flown in from Poland]
in order to obtain an
orderly catharsis.

What we had instead, though,
was rhythmic shoulder shrugging,
visual ebonite [hard rubber, to you and me]
and a whole lot of shearing machines.


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