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Agnes Vojta
Editor’s Note
Dear Readers, I am one of the associate editors and delighted to get to write the letter for this issue. Greetings from Missouri! Summer here is hot, humid, and green. So green. The woods are a jungle. Vines obscure the bluffs. The trails are swallowed by vegetation; all kinds of plants cover the forest floor. […]
At the Crossroads
Rest on the rocks, feel their reassuring solidity, take a deep breath to still the panic that rises like bile, recite the litany against fear and imagine Sisyphus happy.
Speechless
The mute years are dunes of unwritten words that shift with the winds, memories evanescent as mirages. I wish I had driven poems like stakes into the ground to anchor time.
Before a Winter
Precariously, the sycamores perch on the river bank. Tangled roots, unearthed, claw the gravel. Yellow leaves litter the ground like unanswered letters or debts too high to be forgiven.