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From the trees beside me / a hawk emerges, / falling horizontally / toward Bradley Falls.
— from “1.”
By Wayne HallFebruary 1976It slips through us / a parade of delicate / dead women that carry / the sun in the August sky
— from “End of Summer”
By Douglas HallFebruary 1976Shades of the winter moon / distill the sky / into a foretaste of the arising: / the emergent forest tapestry / of dissonant souls / harmonizes.
By Gayle GarrisonFebruary 1976alone. / the harsh beauty. / salt waves / strike the sandward grain. / the palm-leaf / totters at the edge
By Joe BlankenshipFebruary 1976One cant love without fear of exposing / tender parts to pain, nor can one leave / love to feeling incomplete, to make sense / from pain, never-ending, like glare.
By Richard WilliamsFebruary 1976Personal, political, provocative writing delivered to your doorstep every month—without a single ad.
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