Current Issue About Editorial Note Archives Submitting Links		Poems by Duane Ackerson   Just Another Horror Story Ants have invaded the office. One of them crawls into the copier. Unfortunately, we run off five hundred copies before we realize the machine was set on ENLARGE.   The Moon The sun's crazy relation, locked in the attic and only let out at night.   When we mention it to the sun, it smiles and keeps its dark face hidden.   On The Beauty of the Lesser Oil Slicks In the warehouse district, trucks pass, spreading black blessings from holey oil tanks.   Out of these dark thoughts, something like a bouquet blossoms: neon confetti crackles in puddles scattered along the asphalt.   Strange what passes for an act of kindness.   Next Poem
		All materials on this site are © 2005. No materials may be copied, reposted, or reused without written consent of their creator(s).