First, there's the fire.
Then the earth
the fire's stifled by.
In time there's stone
and what's left over.
And what's left over
begins to breathe, begins
to outgrow its meager
jelly-fingered frame.
What's left over begins
to mix among itself, begins
to notice things like its
difference. Difference
is where he comes in.
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Issue 59
-
Editor's Note
-
Poetry
-
Fiction
-
Book Review
- David Rigsbee reviews Inventing Constellations
by Al Maginnes
- David Rigsbee reviews Inventing Constellations