Current Issue About Editorial Note Archives Submitting Links		Denis Robillard Pine Creek Clocks, c.1982 In a far off place I hear dueling clocks in a room on a ranch The burdens of the day lie deep and heavy inside the entrails of these clocks. Breathing, expanding, exhorting themselves in slingshot time. Above the scene a gun totting Brautigan takes pot shots at these dueling clocks, Poem bullets splitting targets like rotten logs, mind dangling metaphors splitting amnesiac veil of booze trying to find another blackberry motorboat, or watermelon waterfall trapped underneath. Next Poem
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