A QUARTERLY DEVOTED TO POEMS AND REVIEWS
Down the
street, the wind following with its bankrupt wings of newspaper. Down alleys where the streetlamps waste their haloes on puddles and the shipwrecked. |
So if each day dies with
(as the Jesuit tells) then what cost the news I skirmished how early this morning --
and again the tree
frog |
I hold in my hand the gift of
your words, see your wrinkled face smiling from the back cover, read: "the woman I am is not what you see." |
Louise O'Donnell |
"Every Force Evolves a Form"... Mother Ann Lee of the Shakers | Inquiries or comments to: Paul Schwartz, Toronto, Canada oel@interlog.com |
All contents copyright © 1999. Paul Schwartz and Jones Av. All rights reserved. |