Current Issue About Editorial Note Archives Submitting Links		Howie Good (Belated) Elegy for Richard Brautigan Steelhead trout dapple the Pacific Northwest like the silver sound of Chekov's phone ringing. It's a little early to think about dinner. In a Lonely Place The heart is breathing all on its own, like a town so small it doesn't have a priest, the insects and birds just loud enough for us to believe they might still exist. Next Poem
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