ABOUT

CONTENTS

EDITORIAL

ARCHIVE

LAGNIAPPE

MAST

SUBMISSIONS

lets dance

& select as hire to one whod no
kids john keats say with bleached
hair who sang the earth out in ru
ral pub in cameraimposed harmo
ny of the uninflamed candleset he
was oblivious to codes of racism
peculiar to this country cruci
fy him for that or for being des
cended from imperialistic nigh
tingales eds horse got at the shed
rose the boy who recries wolf has
crows feet now the earth cracks in
anticipation his tradition revered
by the clageyed the singers welts are
edited from the song a wellround
ed suppers on offer two punks cut
up at the cliff face the snakes coiled
like a g a wish defines itself that
georges perec be here petals
rain we shake spaceage sheep


skis

my prosaic desire risks less
its an advantage underneath
a tree i dont know your
name over snows my guardi
ans are to blame tentatively
we could be thinking anything
the dangers nothing wed read
in the mountainous gazette
yet its presence can be felt
in the rough label the unsmooth
cheeks of their wearer if they
were in my hands it would be
the romance of the season i
crave the next one brave a
comment fatally nicking your
life i wish i swear from the
bottom of your feet the passage
grated to the svelte hellos
as good as goodbye when
with one turn of the wrist
or hips the scene changed
the heats taxed the stills in
turmoil feet move unwilled


wont

in a town thats seen no volcano
eruption or enemy occupation du
ring wartime i find a handprint
only cement can tell its circum
stance the wooden ruins of a minor
rome where the lions &
christians have combined has a
connection to ritual everything i
discern true & dirtied by feb
ruary floods i spit flinty
bits for a civic memory im do
nating the forms ive filled in my
mountain nausea affects my spelling
theres nothing really here to damage
to walk in & out of bully i
make my bulldozer report juggle an
orange till its garbage somehow im
in training for a northern blue
rome if my stars are right this
time i ask the future what happened


tobacco

farming it theres a hinge
doors open on the demonic
& organic or the tenden
cies are imposed like the
imposition of any europe
an son so i wear the man
tle of the allied & axis
powers alternately & my
soft fingers tear for the
benefit of the yard this
hard grain will be soft a
gain the haloed will be
reduced to bone i carry
a bag im rough to sen
sibilities that have no
external or agrarian
focus yet a siege men
talitys available to a
ny superstition skips a
generation i weld feti
shes to my own version