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ISSUE:  Autumn 1998

What were those? Those were fiery
craters.
No, those were the nights of childhood.

Madness and sky clung together
in that sleep
and surrender.
Surely you’ve been there many times before.
You’ve come a long way just to hang back.

Those were rosary beads shining out of the dark.
No, those were the nights of childhood.
No, those were fiery craters.

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