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ISSUE:  Summer 2007

The Great Scribe, who remembers nothing,
not even your name the instant he writes it down,
Would like it up here, I think,
The blank page of the sundown sky, the tamarack quill points,
and no one to answer for.

This would be a tough story to crack.
Who wouldn’t embrace such an absence,
Especially someone whose page is always full,
and whose narrative goes nowhere?


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