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Color Theory

By Jen Schalliol

turning white with light or milk

the color of music says one

and another says: obscene

the moon’s white face. this year is white

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Ave

By Jessica Murray

For a sign, a pinhole in the firmament,

and me the open eye.

Peace without stasis, each mellow
fruit

eaten.

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cover his confusion

By S Cearley

S Cearley is a former AI researcher in computer-derived writing and professor of philosophy, currently living eight inches above a river watching ducks and herons in between salmon runs.

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DROWNED IN ONONDAGA LAKE.

Diana Arterian

A BOAT OVERTURNED AND THE LIVES OF A
YOUNG MAN AND A GIRL LOST.
JUNE 21, 1879

In an instant

the boat overturned

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weaken the idea and stay in the tree

By S Cearley

S Cearley is a former AI researcher in computer-derived writing and professor of philosophy, currently living eight inches above a river watching ducks and herons in between salmon runs.

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SEVERE STORM AT SYRACUSE

Diana Arterian

Several Persons Believed to Have Been
Drowned in Lake Onondaga—Much
Damage to Property
AUG. 28, 1895

And wind and rain

of terrific violence

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Poet Laureate of Himself

By Chris Carosi

it was made to prove something

to throw away was to have it first

to be a trap kid in there

shouldering forgiveness

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Prostrate Ear

By Chris Carosi

a word works through soil, a transit breaching blood
cell, magnetized as message

wait for me to die and you will know death too
shares a brackish voice

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Ode to My Bones

By Lauren Camp

As a girl, I fell many times, my uncertain bones bending out, a potential for perfection lost in a clumsy arrangement of body parts linked with diabolical thought. A finger, a finger, an outline, a draft, the fascia, the proximal row of a hand, ligament, nerve, and each carpal bone to my radial-ulna fitting abruptly,

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In Scent and Dusk

By Lauren Camp

Winter’s poor faults brought me here:
one quarter mile off Crocus,
where we talk about small birds and the jewels

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Everything Must Go!

By Lauren Camp

Trees gaze down through gauze of August.

I drive the thermal air on a narrow road rimmed

with orange barrels. Many dashes disappear beneath the car.

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Acres Green©

By Amy Wright

On film, technotopian trails
streak the air in soft neon waves —
synthetic Beamer Bees designed to replace
pollinators who fell

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Eight-Day Clock

By Melanie Dunbar

Dear Grandpa,
You know by now I took the train. The smoke in my room was really steam and the train was a locomotive. I borrowed the mantle clock your father carried from the old country.

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How to Drive in Snow

By Jennie Malboeuf

Within a week of seeing

seven stars in the moon’s

thick ring, it started to snow.

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New Town

By Jennie Malboeuf

We step off the curb into

glass diamonds. Confetti

cuts our feet; the drunks

mistake the street

for a trash bin and we crunch

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Now

By M. A. Schaffner

Now, she says, with that little twitch of her hips.

You didn’t want to go there but you did.

It was the Marquesa de Pontejos, not her pug.

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Dreaming the Colony

By S.D. Lishan

Prelude:

Ah, here we are, wild puppy eyed in the far flung of us.

Like the others, I, too, fling me sad-eared to the one we talk to,

And asked for a healing wind in the once of my needs.

“Let me have a week, just one, of true-work,

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X, Y & Z go to Chapel

By Madeline Vardell

Every Wednesday, before lunch and post-Algebra,

they wipe the red gloss from their lips and put

the Lord in their white socks and shiny black patent

Mary Janes: a billow of plaid-striped corduroy.

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If your boy leads

By Elizabeth Savage

a charmed life
let him keep it

& riches of love
suffering misses

let him
keep it

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When in Autumn

By Elizabeth Savage

Talk that Roman talk
When in October

scatter candy corn
no backward look

When roads divide

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Nomenclature

By Janice Worthen

We approach things at angles

because a direct approach is an insult.

An ear is a temple,

anger a bird pulling out its own feathers

on a branch consumed by fire,

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Bind yourself to us with your impossible voice, your voice! sole soother of this vile despair.

—Arthur Rimbaud, “Phrases

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