W e M a g a z i n e I s s u e 1 7 * V o l u m e 1 7 he is the highest apple on my tree ripening to a bushelful: drop, pretty one, drop ******* until he sang i didn't know my heart had so many doors Nancy Dunlop o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o Stratagems of light slicing a hall into webs of leaf between two trees: have come in oblique leaps to a place, stacked trick on trick to reach it- this solar tremor- tap heat & movable heart of red wood. Michael Weaver o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o from STANCE another driven plot, however sheltered falls away, leaves barren concrete- to be stood on, askew between holes where buildings halls, now space where opening form from one's only distance Stephen Cope o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o When the owl comes down and sits on the top of the birth pole The unremarked messenger sidles from behind Corona Borealis Breathless with complaining. A human life is more important Than anything. And it says it again. To language is to listen. Robert Kelly |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| feedback / dispersion encouraged contact editors c/o cf2785@albnyvms.bitnet We Press Postoffice Box 1503 Santa Cruz, California 95061