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..:: CONTENTS ::..

   Volume X, Issue I

..:: POETRY ::..


..:: PROSE ::..

..:: 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
    Volume VI, Issue I
   Volume VI, Issue II
   Volume VII, Issue I
   Volume VII, Issue II
   Volume VIII, Issue I
    Volume VIII, Issue II
    Volume IX, Issue I
    Volume IX, Issue II

 
Poetry


Anxious Song
Dolsy Smith

 

Dear God's Name,
                     What do I hope to think from gain? I think no theory of others and cannot find to stop. I find I cannot encounter a poultice apart from something meant to have a part of me. Your stumbled on by chance comes alive. I have a buried sense for it, your soft-armed charity machine, rubbing, sliding against the compound that contains it, denim, aquarium, memory's minor sermons, any of them stronger than any one of them alone.

 

 

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