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liz deschenes
tricia collins
steven severance
tom rayfiel
paul graham
reviews
tricia collins: three poets 1998

gary s. white


Rope

Repeat to me
the twisted
logic of my
birth and I
will deny
everything.
Do not taunt
me. I am
dangerous
and I've spent
too much time
in skilled hands
to jump ship now
and lose.


Lamp

Oh, to be burnt out
again when the moths
flutter and the planets
rise. It is a curse
to be worshipped
by six watt souls.
Seventeen hundred lumens
of flux then peace,
if fleeting, dims the shade
and bliss begins, dark and cool,
brass tongues bare on the floor
before their socket, speechless.


The Whole Thing

The whole thing was staggering.
It was unsure of its footing, its
balance was somehow impaired, but
steps were necessary. They were
in fact required but the whole thing
was it didnąt seem possible. Nevertheless
it was quite a spectacle. The whole thing
had that feel of the grand, the larger than
life. Even if it couldnąt actually do anything
the whole thing did at least appear to be working.