Issue 216, Spring 2016
In these situations
I’m trying to figure out what is going on.
So is he too. Purged for oversharing,
he launched a partially deflated football
into the stands. The crow went wild.
We’ll ski the gorse on our ankles
provided that makes anyone feel better.
If not the cheapest scent availeth not.
We are all captured, out of work,
clinging to spruce dominions.
It wasn’t always this way.
Somewhere, ants were taking control
of earth’s blistered pulse.