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NURSE STUMP BY QUINN BAILEY

That is what they call them, Those celestial beings of the forest Frozen in acts of worship. I saw one, in a shaded Grove one rare morning, A Fir I think, in full flight, It’s crown of Salal bursting out In every direction, a...

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THE REMINDER BY QUINN BAILEY

We all stopped, early on that Friday morning To let the family of deer through, A small heard, no more then twenty In both lanes, we Sat still on the road, With no protest to get back To our crowded day, As the mother and her...

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THE ONLY TWO DIRECTIONS BY QUINN BAILEY

This world has only Two true directions: Towards and away. The big fear, in the end, is to awake and find that You chose away. That the hand Which held you down Was none other Than your own. Remember, The pursuit Of that which...

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ALL FOR ENGLAND BY JOHN BONANNI

HEMLOCK HILL YOUR DESTINATION, YOUR CHOICE The sign says it all. The Hill is where you end up when you are living on the tendrils of a receding world of recognition. Sooner or later, it happens to all of us. The disintegration...

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NEW WORLD BY TERRY PERSUN

We are here. We made it. Yes, the Earth is gone, but we—the lucky and best— have come to this place. We few out-tested, out-bid, out-smarted the unchosen to spend years in storage, months in preparation, grueling as it has been,...

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PLANET SEVEN BY TERRY PERSUN

The sky is yellow, the grass blue and red. Photosynthesis has twisted physics left of center, stranger than where it used to reside. Earth so far away nothing learned there applies anymore. The star-bound trip here, at the very...

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MISSING MOTHER BY TERRY PERSUN

I give in to the vibration and rumble, not to mention the horrendous pressure tearing my teeth out. Like a carnival ride, a twist and shift in directions that shock my body alive changes my equilibrium. Born and raised on ship,...

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VIGIL BY ETHAN TINKLER

And when she awoke, the darkness was so complete she could not be sure her eyes were open—or, if even, she was awake. The whispering of the rain at the window—groan of joist and beam in the wind—could just as well have been a...

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TO A SIMPLE VASE BY JONATHAN BRACKER

How long you waited atop a bookcase At the second-rate thrift shop I do not know, But you caught my eye with your color So I lifted you to find your price. Too undistinguished to call a “vahz,” You were a...

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SUNDAY MORNING BEFORE TEN BY JONATHAN BRACKER

From this writing desk I see Out the window at my side A young father with two sons Trio up the street through sun and shade. Dad stops to kneel before the oldest boy: Something about a shoe. His tanned head down,  He reaches to...

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THREESOME BY MICHAEL CROSSMAN

A pair of mallard ducks flew frantically above the red tiled roofs before banking sharply towards a large pond. They glided into the calm water agitating its smooth surface.  The male, with a distinct fluorescent green head and...

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