Current Issue About Editorial Note Archives Submitting Links		Poems by Wanda O'Connor   In early morning I lift my glass to the moon, try to see through it I think it's east, but the early morning fog has not yet cleared   I am the only human alive   and I can do anything   no one knows I am here planning for things waiting for things as I walk on the surface of skin     dissecting the goods there is an antidote in the melancholy of a seed   the effect of rising or a finale   the statements we make or suffer through we eat stones, fish for compliments   eat the fish we kill   Next Poem
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