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By Kathi Wolfe
I'm in my seat,
averting my eyes,
those funhouse mirrors,
By Jonathan B. Tucker
pardon our appearance
as we grow to better serve you
says the sign on the fence
By Sheila Black
The brace was metal, and it fastened around the ankles.
Outside in the street there was the beggar with elephantiasis; there was
the leper, the neighbor with eyes milky blind,
By Judith Arcana
You read the tiny cardboard book before
you scratch the strip under Augie's New Pizza
on the back of MIA:We still don't know
By Ching-In Chen
The teacher straightbacked,
faced me off, her eyes.
My face in the cleave of
her shoulder, my bones
By Jeff Gundy
A good day for late wildflowers--daisies and burrs
leaned out into the path for a better view, brilliant
blue somethings with tiny blooms on tall stalks.
By Remica L. Bingham
I enter to find all the students in uniform
occupying a small room.