Cyclops Mary
2 March 2004
Vol. 4, No. 1
poetry, editors' select
If Cyclops Mary heard it.
If that sentence flew clean into the ear.
If the whole thing traveled pure,
unrustled by the pigeons.
Cyclops Mary Down the Avenue, A Monologue
2 March 2004
Vol. 4, No. 1
poetry
Yeah, I heard it.
Saw the whole thought form
from out the back of his head,
then take shape into one lust-musty sentence.
Teeth
2 March 2004
Vol. 4, No. 1
poetry
Two sisters ride down with us
to Massawa's liberation celebration.
One sister is the color of injera; her teeth are big and stuck-out.
One sister is a cinnamon stick.