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..:: CONTENTS ::..
�� Volume VI, Issue II

..:: 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

Poetry


The Yellow Pencil
Howie Good

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No matter how loud I shout, my voice doesn�t carry. Only in old movies do the lovers escape on an ice floe. The night supervisor, his face curiously flushed, whispers something I can�t hear to the new girl working the line in the family pencil factory. Later, the worn rubber nub of a no. 2 pencil erases what has just been written.

//�� Advance�� //