Poetry
Because All Falsehood Spreads Its Illness, I
By Patrick Walsh(For J.C.M.) We must speak frankly, you and I. We must, at least, have that decency, To bring forth that semblance of imperfect light, Of imperfect sight, So all that has been cruelly hidden and renamed Disguised and and slyly unspoken, Can be at last imperfectly seen And clearly declare:
Anonymous Biography
By Armando RubioI’m a dark citizen abandoned in the middle of the streets by the knife without bread at noon, homeless and withering away like the steeple clocks, with no other job except to wander among disguises.
Blankness, Much
By Noelle KocotHot air blows on the 48th parallel of my__________. Saltartory/no salutatory Blankness,much.
BOTH WAYS
By Ralph Martina.) this Quarter to three the day off DON’T WALK light stops me at ‘lantic abnya bound downtown to pay the bills and get enchanted ah, the loveliness’ May afternoon full of spring’s fuzzy balm
Spirit of Butterflies Lovers, Story of A Chinese Classic Music
By Shao Wei1. it’s not the music I care about, I want to know where they fly
The Ashes
By Carolyn Kizerfor William Gass This elderly poet, unpublished for five decades, Said that one day in her village a young girl Came screaming down the road, “The red Guards are coming!
