INSIDE THIS ISSUE:
Alan Britt
Lisa Schmidt
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LESSONS I On this high school blackboard love belongs to the edges, the lifeless spaces skirted by the dusters It is an unsociable science, unfit to mingle with textbooked shapes & theorems (each clothed in chalk, buzzing smugly) II But occasionally love will come alive in a teacher's words to a classroom full yet empty (because its students are united in dreams of faceless lovers, singing flowers, & photoshopped beaches): "...has this distinguishing characteristic: its ability to calm a petulant weather without effort, is equivalent only to the power of the sky to clear its own black throat without endangering a fragile world..." III The students will soon learn that it's a bit more complicated than that; that love, when alive, is a law able only to prove its own implausibility; an X that cannot make up its mind on why it should or should not be a Y... FOUR-LETTER WORDS I won't stop writing, until I run out of ink, and air, and the blinking red light nudges me to pen my final period - just before the darkness arrives to wipe my mind clean. Wearing the badge of survival will be my favourite four-letter words: love, loss, left, lieu, each meaning this and that (nuance borrowed at low interest rates) depending on what the invisible small print, and the unblinking gaze of time, are saying.
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