Current Issue About Editorial Note Archives Submitting Links		Janann Dawkins Organic Memories Blackberries hide in my mouth. Opened wide, nine syrupy stitches slide across my taste buds like sleds on a cliff. My tongue is slick with undulate flavor. I lick the roof and embedded there little clicks of seeds meet my muscular touch. I moan and whir and spin like a girl in a blackberry field, my mother four rows back, forgotten. Grown Man Throws a Tantrum The sight sucks your breath: arms buck against gravity; fists fall like flails; knees bent like pins; skin pink with blood. His efforts shake foundations. The baseboard buckles beneath him, this earthquake of a man. Arms flex, full of demons. On the mantle, curios tremble. Next Poem
		All materials on this site are © 2008. No materials may be copied, reposted, or reused without written consent of their creator(s).