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Sean Nevin


30 August 2008
Vol. 8, No. 2

I've learned, has nothing

in common with the relentless

metronome of carpenter bees

ticking off the aluminum siding

like the steady hail of olive pits

spit through my open window

the summer I learned to shake

martinis without bruising the ice.


27 August 2008
Vol. 8, No. 2

The human tongue, in disbelief, obsesses

at the tender pit of a tooth,

insists on entering the empty room again

and again until it cankers…

Hinged Double Sonnet for the Luna Moths

24 August 2008
Vol. 8, No. 2
poetry, sonnet

For ten days now, two luna moths remain

silk-winged and lavish as a double broach

pinned beneath the porch light of my cabin.

Two of them, patinaed that sea-glass green

of copper weather vanes nosing the wind,

the sun-lit green of rockweed, the lichen's

green scabbing-over of the bouldered shore…

Wildfire Triptych

For two full days the sirens

realized their high notes

in the quivering saucers

stacked inside cupboards…

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