ISSUE: Fall 2004
He is in the open laying something softer down.
Leaves as tokens weigh the ground
And twigs as sextants pull the low sun.
Overhead she trails a canopy of net.
At the fringes line the eyes of dumb beasts.
He is in the open laying something softer down.
Overhead she trails a canopy of net,
The expanse held back then trickles in.
Thicker than the dark the stars converge,
Overhead she trails a canopy of net.
He is in the open laying something softer down,
Rocks in tides lift beneath the turf.
Overhead she trails a canopy of net,
A tail of galaxies pulls her in.
His head as feathers weighs his hands,
He is in the open laying something softer down.
