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From the October 1993 Print Edition

I hang upsidedown from the roof of your skull sleeping”my wings crossed over me like Pharaoh’s arms, locking in a wisdommillennial sands have leached and buried. We are here by the thousands. Light tilted upwards stirsus in a dark hoodoo: ripples of crepe, eyes like red sequins, fangs . . . . Continue Reading »


From the June/July 1990 Print Edition

Z—the fly is at the sill. Z Z—I am silent, riding the center Of my web, the intricacy of my thought Spelled out like the stars and the bonds between them. Z Z Z My feet make no noise as I dance to the edge Of my galaxy, this gossamer star-net that catches The sun filtering gray through . . . . Continue Reading »