In this issue

v4.06

                                                    Dee Rimbaud

In this Issue...

Going figurative
by Arlene Ang

around curves. A crook of arm,

hand curled around a jigger,

lips that clamp the glass rim.

Too tightly. The car skates

a zigzag on the freeway.

Headlights dark, black lightning.

The moon, caught in a gray net,

clouds like long hair

coming away with the breeze.

Roadside poppies bend

while the guardrail plays catch.

Firemen are always late....
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Why 'Not' Fear

by Ron Sitton

Have you watched the news?

Mr. Politician tells me

I should be scared --

Of what?

Airplanes crashing?

More people die in car wrecks.

Terrorism?

From us or them?

Or do we so easily forget Oklahoma City?

My response --

Why fear...?
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2 Poems
by Robert Bradshaw

Hitting Fungoes

The runner sprints for home,

the chalk flying. Thirty thousand people

lean forward as if their horse

were crossing the finish line.

Cheers erupt like a chain

of volcanoes going off....

Blind Vision

by Ernest Williamson III

I saw gold violins

descending from granite black skies

the way of the wind

was in constant flux

women were giving birth on bridges on highways

some were hovering above the Mississippi river

laughing at the drowning unbelievers...
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Dee Rimbaud

Unspoken Rules
by Ann Hite

Cut Out The Pattern 1916

AzLeigh watched her brother through tiny slits in her eyelids. She lay on the sofa motionless, hoping to catch him off guard, wishing he would go for the kitchen money hidden in a small pot behind the Bible. She imagined herself the great Queen Cleopatra on the Nile, floating on her own personal barge. She read all about the queen in one of Father's books. Her brother removed the lid on the small pot.

"I caught you! Arthur Hawkins!" She sat straight up. "I'm telling Father. You will die a slow death for this one."

Arthur made one fluid motion from the bookcase to AzLeigh and pinned her down. His fourteen-year-old body was more like Father's and he sufficiently held her in place. His face touched hers. "You little witch."

She took a breath....
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Jesus Town
by Rhiannon Cabaniss

Southeast Arkansas is full of people who have found Jesus. A lot of them find him in one of the many churches that overwhelm the streets of our town. Others find him in prison. As for myself, it took me 18 years, but I finally found Jesus. He was in Wal-Mart the whole time. I don’t mean that I accepted Jesus into my heart; I literally mean I found Jesus. There was a man with long hair and a beard, dressed in flowing white robes, wandering down the aisles of Wal-Mart. He said “Hi” to me, and I just stopped and stared.

I told everyone I met of my good fortune. Everyone either looked confused: “Yeah, I’ve been saved since I was eight,” or had their own stories. One girl in the elevator said that he went into Taco Bell and was blessing people. Another said that one of her friends had talked to him, and apparently he has a wife and two daughters and has walked across 48 states. A friend of mine who works at Wal-Mart added, “Yeah, he got kicked out of Wal-Mart. The manager was getting complaints.”

The persecution never ends. ...
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To Each His Own
by Angela Witt

I’m sure this checker thinks I’m a total nut. There’s nothing wrong with coming through the check- out line with my twenty three cans of Furball Chicken Hearts and Livers in Gravy and twenty four cans of Furball Salmon in Gravy.

“How you doin’ today, Lisa?” I greet the checker with a broad smile.

“Just fine, sir. How about you?” she replies.
“Fine.”

She has a curious look written all over her face. I can tell she wants to ask a question but doesn’t know how to ask it. I guess she doesn’t want to be rude....
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