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Selected
Poems
GIVE ME MY LITTLE SKULL –
PHOTOGRAPHER JOEL PETER WITKIN,
MEXICO CITY
Catherine Sasanov
MONGOLIA,
SOUTH DAKOTA
Elinor Nauen
NIGHT
& ITS TRAINS
Christien Gholson
Selected Prose
HOME
#34 - MARGARET'S PLACE
- AMSTERDAM - 2 WEEKS
Sharon Kwik
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ISSUE
NUMBER FOUR
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ISSUE
NUMBER FIVE
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ISSUE
NUMBER SIX
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ISSUE
NUMBER EIGHT
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ISSUE NUMBER NINE |
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THE
DAY AFTER THE ELECTION
My
daughter knows I am sad so
she holds my hand as she shows
me her candy drawer, the Halloween
loot arranged in baggies by type.
She takes out the piece she will eat
before breakfast and the one for after,
the Hershey bar for the lunch box,
and the lollipop for after school.
I put my eye to her cupped hands to admire
a candy with a glow-in-the-dark wrapper.
My wife worries that her pipes will cement up
from this sugar diet. Last Halloween she gradually
threw the treats away when my daughter wasn't looking.
But now our broken hearts are drained of harsh
parenting. Have your candy trove now,
eat it all, the future will not be sweet.
Last night my wife knew from my despondent flop
into bed that she needn't bother checking the tv.
In my dreams my mother was unhappy,
a yellow airplane crashed into the building
next door, wings tilted World Trade style,
I was lost in an amusement park, the fingers
on my left hand tingling from electric shocks.
Then this bleak day dawned, the future unfolded.
My daughter another coolie at Walmart.
My terrified daughter drafted to fight the war on terror.
My daughter blown to bits by 9/11 part 2.
My daughter's kind hand in mine, comforting me.
Doug
Dorph
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