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Cover
Table of Contents
Editor's Notes
Donations
Submission Guidelines
Website

Stories & Essays
Balance
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By Alison Baumy
Contemporary Cultural Differences...
_ By Ninni Siurua
Eclipsed Yesterdays
_ By Clyde Windjammer
Healthy Guy
_ By David J. LeMaster
Immortalis Letum
_ By Sophie Davis
Last Call For Salvation
_ By Angela P. Markham
My Fault
_ By Ro Thorton
Pacific Northwest
_ By Aaron Hellem
Q-Q Ca Choo
_ By Billy Pilgrim
The Best Laid Plans
_ By John A. Ward
The Ecstasy of Cooking
_ By Sam Nolting
The Girl With the Green Umbrella
_ By J.R. Earlebeck
The Gods of Houston
_ By Rebekah Frumkin

Poetry
Athena's Owl
_ By Amberly Mason
But I Have Never Known This
_ By Kaleen Love
Clouds On Your Floor
_ By Savannah Bobo
Crowded Lobby
_ By M. Blair Spiva
Ever After
_ By Bennie Johnson
Important Questions
_ By P.T. Bell
Migration
_ By Sarah Wassberg
Moon Goddess
_ By Kristina Diane Smith
Oldest Profession
_ By Ashley Polker
On Visiting Hay-on-Wye
_ By M. Blair Spiva
Sodom and Gomorrah
_ By Jessica Fannin
Wal-Mart
_ By P.T. Bell

Art & Photography
Jeremy Harker
_ Paintings
Douglas C. Knight
_ Photography
Jed Knox
_ Paintings and Drawings
May Ann Licudine
_ Paintings
Danny Malboeuf
_ Paintings
Alex Stanbury
_ Photography

On Visiting Hay-on-Wye
By M. Blair Spiva


Rugged and worn,
the castle overlooks these cramped and crowded streets.
The locals mingle with tourists,
darting in and out of the light drizzle
falling from grey afternoon clouds.
Even inside these shops,
these wonderful, musty places,
the chill cuts through sweaters and raincoats.
Shelves upon shelves,
stacked to the ceiling,
piled on the dusty floor,
books fill each opening with ragged and torn bindings
and pages as brittle as the bones of their dead authors.

What words will delight my eyes?
What new acquisitions and rare finds
will caress the palms of my hands?
Careful and excited fingertips trace golden parchment.
These were the treasures of unknown scholars,
the first gifts to children unable to read,
but capable of appreciating.
These were the tokens of courtship between
young lovers in a time when words still symbolized
the pinnacle of romance.
Literature is alive in this place,
the scrawlings of the ill and mighty
reign in each dimly-lit room.
Darkness begins to cascade from the sky,
the streets are wet and empty,
the castle now black and nothing more than a shadow.
Thank you, my love, for giving this to me.
It is time to go home.

 


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M. BLAIR SPIVA is a poet living and working in Athens, Georgia. Her poetry has appeared in Plum Biscuit, The Lampshade, The Corn Creek Review, and The Argotist Online. Her work is also forthcoming in Lalitamba Magazine, Misanthropists Anonymous, The Landing, and DISPATCH Literary Journal, where she also serves as poetry editor. Blair lives with her husband, Michael, and their two dogs, Annabel Lee and Percy.