INSIDE THIS ISSUE:
Shutta Crum
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SNOWMAN 1 you switched yourself off, and a dark, cold moon ascended at once between us. frozen incense, a tipsy snowbeing floating in festive darkness, escaping the sacred places that a now-forgotten sun left behind... and I, I keep trying. 2. time to warm your temples up again; to clear out your robbers and ruined vessels. we shall replace the burnt-out moon, and squirt the halogen lamp of spring into every grim face of ice. we shall let the green glow again. and we shall be, again. POETRY Long before the conscious Touch of cold whiteness On black skin, It snowed In my mind. Poetry fell from a dark sky And froze my foolishness Through its thin anorak. Metaphors watched over memories Near the vacant fireplace; Sgt. Poetry Administering the Prison of Words. And a cold light polished My words To that fiendish glint That startled God And left my nameprint everywhere.
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