INSIDE THIS ISSUE:
Laszlo Slomovits
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A LITTLE BIT I could have died in this silence without you not felt my feet tip-toe in mid-air nor my hands fly off ahead of me detached from every word they could write or not in their attempt to caress you with no more of an impossible warmth than say pulling up this empty room's only hard-backed chair WHAT ISN'T Of all the voices you leave behind most memorable is your silence now that you've spoken without a voice now that waves at your fingertips veering off foam-- and on whose white your words are given a chance to be written-- burst bubbles darkening each new word hidden in its unending openness and into which I can't help falling straight through the reach of your arms in a crash of waves around me REALLY HAVING NOT Although so little time between seconds there's enough for you to exist without being enough for you to last without being enough for me to enter and in this space in time find you already there without me holding onto time's arms about to pull us apart but carefully so the many different directions we take won't close in on us as if between one second to it next time like us stands no chance at all Paul B. Roth, Fayetteville, New York |
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