In the beginning was the word. Remember.
So says the word. So says the thread of smoke
no votive breath blows clear of the fire.
Candles ink another name in the book
of clouds, and we rise, as do our steeples
with their funeral music. Such lovely tedium,
the reddening of flocks that drift to sleep
or slaughter before the night would take them.
In the beginning there was no beginning.
That came later, when time that is the widow
of experience made a myth of things.
Out of the blue we came. So says the blue.
So says the great night storm that litters the road
with leaves and branches. And the sky pours through.
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Issue 65
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Editor's Note
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POETRY
- Thomas Jay Balkany
- Bruce Bond
- Kristene Brown
- Jeff Burt
- Regina Colonia-Willner
- David Cooke
- William J. Cordeiro
- Cheney Crow
- Sharon Dolin
- David Faldet
- Martin Jude Farawell
- Soheila Ghaussy
- Ann Herlong-Bodman
- Michael Lauchlan
- James Lineberger
- John Mahnke
- Neil McCarthy
- Michael Montlack
- Dave Nielsen
- Mark Thomas Noonan
- Linda Tomol Pennisi
- F. Daniel Rzicznek
- Robert Lavett Smith
- Philip Terman
- Randi Ward
- Yim Tan Wong
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FICTION