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Hermitage Piece

The span of winter afternoons spreads out between the hollow moon’s two distant ends. It is a bear gone far ahead. It is elsewhere.   by Amos J. Hunt Original bio from the Fall 2008 edition: Amos J. Hunt is pleased that he gets a contributor bio this time. This poem first ran in the Fall 2008 edition of ...

Wrong Way Radcliff’s First Ride

by Amos J. Hunt Right now, in every town or city in the country, the same thing is happening: some kid who has recently learned that he is supposed to feel limited by his environment is trying to think of a way to twist the name of his town into a variant of “Nowheresville.” You used to get this in small towns but now it’s ...

Untitled [“When have you ever heard a silent crowd?”]

When have you ever heard a silent crowd? Without a word, they watched their schoolhouse burn But one man must have turned his wide-brimmed hat Over and over slowly in his hands. They go home silent. I remember when I wanted to be Amish, like in books, Or Mennonite, like one I saw, my age, Pushing a stroller, in a pioneer ...

Patience

Patience is the progress around the flower dial, the sun’s wand-tap on every head to wake each fairy child. Patience is a pacing in outdoor starless rooms, a preening of the cold black grass, the hour nothing blooms.   by Monika Cooper Original bio from the May/June 2006 edition: Monika Cooper is a ...