Sea Garden – Rosamond S. King

Dead man’s fingers—
short and still
or waving spindles
brain coral,

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Meditation on Ruin – Jay Hopler

It’s not the lost lover that brings us to ruin, or the barroom brawl,
—-or the con game gone bad, or the beating
Taken in the alleyway. But the lost car keys,
The broken shoelace,
The overcharge at the gas pump

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Breath – Peter Makuck 
We die of words—Ralph Waldo Emerson

Their echoes eddy,

vanish, and endlessly want more.

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Female – Kimberly Johnson


Locker-room truant in a locked stall
 =====–Through study hall
—–Hiding, hand-stifling her cries,


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