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..:: CONTENTS ::..
   Volume VI, Issue I

..:: POETRY ::..

..:: PROSE ::..
..:: OTHER ::..

..:: 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


Emileigh Barnes


Your box of blood oranges, which you peeled and put in my lap, 1 + 1 + 1 + 1


Your shovel skinned our backyard like peeling the earth's membrane,

revealed a layer of clay red and flat as rugburn.


That winter, the trees suffocated in storm, bones glazed, engorged in their ice shells.

Walking under them, I knew, this is silent. Their coil = (calculating arch).


Seamuscle, you flicked salt on a cityscape of rime. We learned glaciers

are heart-blue at their cores.


Like shrapnel, rinds assembled in our trash. Sediment.

How to balance two people: 

My weight1 x my distance1 = Your weight2 x your distance2


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