Current Issue About Editorial Note Archives Submitting Links		Bill Neumire Sinners Listen, the birds have words for people like us. They're always panicked & rustling away like confronted adulterers. They call us infidels & slaves, salt mummies; that's how we end up in their apocrypha. Thesis: they're spreading the news of our original sin & giving sermons on the fifth street telephone wires about a god they've met in the fog, one who keeps a dusty picture of his sons & daughters tucked in a cloud heavy with rain. Next Poem
		All materials on this site are © 2011. No materials may be copied, reposted, or reused without written consent of their creator(s).