INSIDE THIS ISSUE:
Chris Lord
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WHO COULD POSSIBLY Enjambment is to poetry what syncopation is to music, a chapbook to a book what a poem is to prayer. So who could detect what would be missing? Who could possibly know what it is that I covet? EMPATHIC DEPRESSION My sadness has stolen the beauty from the spectrum, left ashes in its stead-- dark blackberry brambles, poison mushrooms, chokecherries. Outside my window, a bird is singing. Her sound reverberates in the springtime air. Blossom thrives like grace notes, crowned with fermatas. The room rocks with azure light. A double rainbow comes pouring in, and still, all the world offers me is brown. Helen Losse, Winston-Salem, North Carolina |
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