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Poetry
Gillian Devereux
When I say poor, I mean we drank powdered milk,and our meat slid from the can in jellied squares.I mean our TV always showed black, white, or greyeven though the screen promised technicolor.Inside me, color flourished, each ray a wild band,a length of the spectrum. Bent and separated,different shade
Poetry
Michael Colonnese
I lingered for hours beneath the gray sideshow canvas,
Poetry
Sarah Brown Weitzman

Horse latitudes, Mason Dixon. Tropic

Poetry
John Hodgen
Slaving captains...sometimes tried to avoid arrest by a mass drowning of every slave in the cargo.
Poetry
Christine Higgins
In a dream Perpetua beheld a bronze ladder
Poetry
Kathy Rooney
I am lying this morning