Current Issue About Editorial Note Archives Submitting Links		Rufo Quintavalle Wish I wish I could sing a larger song. I wish I could wing it, improvise a living, an admirable thing. I wish the tonight swallow me would; take this wish, this wishing. Vienna Of course it was a lie no not a lie but not as true as it thought still it was beautiful that much is clearer now than then like the Midwest which on the ground is dull and at the time theft from a plane window spreads like Mondrian. Meniscus The eye's wet arc, an interface with air; breath against the wind screen of a sinking car. Place du Carrousel The president passes in a motorcade; let him pass. The sun is kissing my eyes and I know I shall never go hungry. Next Poem
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