DOUG PAUGH : No More Ass To Kiss
JOHN HORVATH JR : April's Leaving
BARBARA F. LEFCOWITZ : The Grandmother's Escape
POETRYREPAIRS 13.09:105
contemporary international poetry - for your reading pleasure,
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No More Ass To Kiss April's Leaving The Grandmother's Escape


DOUG PAUGH
No More Ass To Kiss
If my job the rest of my days is to sit here and collect a smooth embrace, breeze, then let it be like it's always been. Break out those old dusty gloves and let me have just one last punch-drunk blow at a time until life finally gives in and my deathly goal has boldly been achieved
POETRYREPAIRS 13.09:105
I have many things to write unto you but I will not write with pen and ink
--JOHN the theologian

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No More Ass To Kiss April's Leaving The Grandmother's Escape


JOHN HORVATH JR
April's Leaving
When you have gone never to see me again there will come many tongues thicker than mine jabbing education into you with proposition date and theory Do not reject, do not turn from education; You will have my tongue my caressing undertones to releave your anxieties, here, between your thighs. Listen cautiously; the calm stream of you will become rapids crashing to the sea of forgetting me though I first discovered this ravine that rinsed so eagerly.
POETRYREPAIRS 13.09: 105
Poetry endangers the established order  of the soul - Plato

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No More Ass To Kiss April's Leaving The Grandmother's Escape


BARBARA F. LEFCOWITZ 
The Grandmother's Escape
No shock of oxygen, no breast or rocking cradle welcomes her retrieval, slippery and red from the belly of the wolf. She knows this is her last rescue, from now on she must proceed alone: the hunter's out for younger game, the girl hints she's ready to chuck her red velvet cap, the wolf's full of stones, an old beast near death; she never liked to play nurse in the first place, so why start now-- Reborn? Not exactly. More a return from a brief sojourn inside the healing dark, free to wander when and where she desires. Perhaps today a dalliance with a field of flowers, like Red Riding Hood herself, so carried away making nosegays, the pot of butter began to melt, the milk to sour. Or perhaps a journey to distant places not yet named on any map, the chance to talk to many strangers on the way.
POETRYREPAIRS 13.09: 105
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DOUG PAUGH : No More Ass To Kiss
JOHN HORVATH JR : April's Leaving
BARBARA F. LEFCOWITZ : The Grandmother's Escape


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