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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


from There Is No Wayward Palace
Laura Carter

 

On another side of the world, someone might call you a criminal for catching a wrong angle. That's why there are few angles anymore. You remember them, too; their chimes lit you like a blues song with a little kick. Welcome to the window you passed through. You're complete, you're enough, and there's something in how you play a saxophone that's striking. A clarinet you played when you were younger became a way of taking an angel away. A synergy is not what's expected on an ordinary day, but you too could be caught by law at the wrong moment, epic diverted into need.

 

 

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