We are, it seems, all under some guy
Way up there in the vast sky.
It's a man's world from above,
It's true, one we can't afford not to love.
But what motions from below
Is what I root for, just so you know.
It's a thrill to be on site
Of a different sort of light.
But whose dream, then, are we in,
You'd ask: happy ending, or ruin?
Faithful to prophets of Uncle-Sam-I-Am,
I riff on the endurance of time.
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Issue 76
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Editor's Note
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POETRY
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FICTION
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BOOK REVIEW
- David Rigsbee reviews Our Sudden Museum
by Robert Fanning
- David Rigsbee reviews Our Sudden Museum