Current Issue About Editorial Note Archives Submitting Links		Poems by Francis Raven   Sand Dunes Sand must rush through the pores of a green sweater worn by a 20 year old college student while she drinks an unjudged martini because she's only held one once before.   Sand must fuse into fine but tacky crystal swans held possessively, almost violently, in the stained eyes of a fancy architect whose 36th building is positive, final.   Backwards Heroics The hummed way of angels.   Sitting behind the statue who looks forward.   These entrances are not ready for their own footsteps.   The bronze carries light away from itself,   far away another ample surface   Next Poem
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