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SOLSTICE BY CARL SHERMAN

It was the solstice, a light snow dotted and streaked the sidewalk, each slick spot a curb, crack, stumbling block, a sudden abyss, arms open to embrace the weary and unwary. That night the unhoused died all over town. Our...

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SHOWING THE INSTRUMENTS BY CARL SHERMAN

Scenes from childhood: fire in the furnace in my father’s face, chapped hands gentle as Jesus till the hour strikes. Watching the woodchopper wind lay waste the tree next door teaches the sapling to bend; to taste the spit on...

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THIS FLOATING ISLAND BY PAUL PANISH

This floating island seems a world—so loud with grim play, with business, with distraction, with seawalls bending against the sea, with plans, with goals, appointments, deadlines, and with death— this floating island holds us...

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DOWN TO THE SEA BY PAUL PANISH

                      The Sea! The Sea! Something stalked me, lunged for me out of the sea, plunged me down to terror at five years old, struck me rigid with fear from deep in the beast seething there just The Sea! The Sea past...

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