Current Issue About Editorial Note Archives Submitting Links		Jonathan K. Rice huechera surrounded by stones of quartz and broken pottery near the back gate chocolate ruffle alumroot's brown and burgundy leaves beg rays from morning sun dew moistens my slippers in the fescue. coffee cup warms my hands, steams my glasses as I sip arabica and enjoy the morning song of finches   Deleted Scene He kissed her on the eye. He meant to do that- to taste her cerulean blue gaze, To hold her when no one was looking.   Less An Alcove                     Sentence fragments climb the brick and mortar Soft darkness creeps into the niche becomes escape                     a non-place someone reinvents the wheel and midnight lingers in the oaks Next Poem
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