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Subfornical Organ by Rubino del Sur

 D e a r  M r.  S u r,
I take the assertion that PhysMyth could pee with its mouth to be mere confusion of orifice, not a symbol of society and art so much as a cannibalism of its government, of which complex urinary speech affects neither. To say that it split off a transformational kidney and evolved a third brain gives us grave reservations about reviewing your work which shows no sign of external standards or review.
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On a Bustling New York City Street. & Coming in Second. By Ruth Sabath Rosenthal

On a Bustling New York City Street.
a petal fell
by my feet
then another
and another
till a path
of petals
lay before me

Primordial Drink. by M. Wright

Simple syrup into glass.
Three dashes bitters.

The first dash for the separation of light.

I sit in the dentistry waiting room. Time Magazine
says that light-years from here, two black
holes just kissed & can no longer be separated.
Such an event would be extremely violent.

The End of Winter. by James G. Piatt

In the fading blushes of twilight I saw
Wrinkled hands clasping a rusted iron
Chisel as I listened to the whittling of
Oaken hours. I watched the
Pomegranate hue of the horizon fading
Into a pinkish glow, as winter’s wooden
Minutes fell into memories.

One less day of winter was stowed in
My expanding cache of dreams, which
Exist and don’t exist, reaching into the
Past, tinting the future. A wee sculptured
Wooden figure remains filled with the
Valid and the void, a trace of that which
Was... forgetting and remembering,
Both fading.

THE LOANSHARK and the LOAN RANGER. by TJ DiFrancesco

In the imaginary war children always wage, I was
the bank. Stuck-up inside of right. Maker of the guarantee,
guaranteed. Stolen board game bills. A roll of nickels in a fist.

In the hours I spent hogtied in the vault or dead in this
bedeviled world, bad luck came to him who believed
best in the aim of others. Who beat their horse-on-a-stick

like a second Texan heart between their legs. It’s normal
here, the alter ego that believes in justice
and wears the bandit mask, too. No matter what side it’s on

the finger pistol flashes, gold dust in the sun,
Spit lands in the standoff silence like a hammer.
Half doors still swinging. Vigilante, save me