Issue 14

There is no soul and no saving
There is wishful thinking
There is the trailer of Madame Linda
with the stars and planets
after her name and a widening storm
forming a gyre
a winter branch mapping a backache
in the signage of nature
There are histories we swallow in sleep
I was remembering the tangible
ragged dreams above a sofa
the way rainbows appear in the air
if you turned a hose on them
pictorial evidence we have a good side
and a favored hand
a desire to be graceful despite scarcity
a window like a violin
There are clocks twirling pointlessly
darkness because ignorance blocks the light