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..:: CONTENTS ::..
   Volume VII, 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

 
Poetry


Sailing Alone Around the World
Howie Good

A big policeman was pissing off the dock. Ancient women sitting in windows facing the street squeezed their sad, tired tits at me. I had sailed through a fog, though others said it was poison gas, the blindness of a despised regime. The fort at the entrance to Thieves' Bay fired the sunset gun. Something cried that had no name.

 

 

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