ROBERT J. STOUT : Puerto Nuevo, Mexico
ELISHA PORAT : The Lost Son
WALT PHILLIPS : Prone
POETRYREPAIRS #193 13.10:112
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Puerto Nuevo, Mexico The Lost Son Prone


ROBERT J. STOUT
Puerto Nuevo, Mexico
Both the waiter and the cook understood that one did as one was paid to do even though the only customers were a man and wife who ordered a la carte and didn't seem to care that the trees outside were dying and the sons and daughters of the cook and waiter had left for jobs in the States.
POETRYREPAIRS #193 13.10:112
I have many things to write unto you but I will not write with pen and ink
--JOHN the theologian

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in memorium
when I began editing in 1997 I had no idea of meeting new friends. My first interest was publishing good poetry from poets around the world. Then a query came from Elijah Porat and I pointed him toward several outlets in the United States. Over time I published quite a few of his poems. I honor myself by saying that we became friends,
I and this Israeli warrior, pacifist poet. What a truly wonderful human voice! What truly wonderful insights into our time and place!
I miss him greatly.


ELISHA PORAT
25 June 1938 - 23 March 2013
Puerto Nuevo, Mexico The Lost Son Prone


ELISHA PORAT
The Lost Son
He came back, but he came like a stranger He came back, looked about and did not Recall, for to him, all appeared estranged: The house, the yard, the narrow lane. Their memory sliced through his heart, Cut, and he who survived and was favoured Came back; and he who had sworn back there That nothing would he forget, estranged though it be: A dirt path, and the barren field and the ditch At the edge, and the Lemon tree with its bitter fruit. He felt that his absence was almost ordained: To come back at last, to come like a stranger With a shadowy memory that was not estranged, And an unravelled thread of burning desire That will never more be made whole. Translated by Asher Harris.
POETRYREPAIRS #193 13.10: 112
Poetry endangers the established order  of the soul - Plato

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Puerto Nuevo, Mexico The Lost Son Prone


WALT PHILLIPS
Prone
just the tops of the trees were moving as before a storm she told me she was tired i knew she was she'd been up since dawn planning things to improve our lives inside us were hearts and livers and other things pumping and filtering i didn't like the idea of storms of the tiring people are prone to but i had no say in how the life force manifested itself except for my small plot of free will--- if you could call it that
POETRYREPAIRS #193 13.10: 112
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ROBERT J. STOUT : Puerto Nuevo, Mexico
ELISHA PORAT : The Lost Son
WALT PHILLIPS : Prone


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