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   BOOK REVIEW BY JONATHAN BRACKER

We cannot know for certain Jesus said “It is more blessed to give than to receive,” Because there is no verse in the Testament citing it but Paul’s Acts 20:35; We have to take his word for it, or not. But, as to the concept...

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SCARSDALE, NY BY DONALD PACHINGER

the taste of coffee on a snow-spun day light fashioned after snowflakes twinkle in the trees, young and bare facing the train station with its old-timey clock reminiscent of antiquity, the buildings quaintly declare the social...

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SAN DIEGO BY DONALD PACHINGER

notes ringing off piano keys lull one off into distant memory six p.m. sunlight siphons through tan curtains twenty-years-too-old as latch keys lift off my heart and fans cool my skin; the ceiling above slowly falling apart...

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KHARTOUM TO KARACHI BY LAURIE KUNTZ

that was her destination leaning toward the final flight on the sliver of silver the remainder of dreams– crashing in the desert, the fear of not doing so, then the landing in Calcutta, factories and rickshaws, train...

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PARTAKING BY LAURIE KUNTZ

The coming season’s hopeful expectations, oblige the table filled with grains and greens, and the expected company seated around. To be grateful is also to learn to forgive the wrongs of the day, the nefarious clouds, the...

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BY INVITATION ONLY BY LAURIE KUNTZ

Just when you think you can hear beyond the mowers and raw hum of traffic to the sound in high tree tops of the hermit thrush, when you think the bougainvillea’s shades have deepened overnight to wine hues, and the scent of...

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WHAT’S SENT OUR WAY BY LAURIE KUNTZ

“How does one endure, survive, adapt, accept with grace what’s sent our way?” — Poet Lynda Hull, in a letter `to her student, S.A. We must endure– We rise each morning to the same sounds. Birds among motors keep us moving...

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SONDER BY STEVE DEUTSCH

Dad would never let on how he got his nickname. Even mom, who used Sonny for all but scolds, wasn’t telling and you’d have more luck convincing some chicken Colonel to part with the nuclear codes than in persuading his old...

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AEOLIAN BY STEVE DEUTSCH

When I was a young man I’d take to the shore— counting on the salt-slap of wind off the North Atlantic and the emptiness of that unearthly horizon to rouse me from a melancholy that held me bone deep. It was best when the...

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