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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & Owner
Ray Rasmussen, General Editor

Volume 12, Number 2, June 2018
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Paresh Tiwari
Lucknow, Uttar Pradesh, India


The Mountains Are Barren

As they wait for the slowly darkening blood of your eyes.

- a basket brimming with Bati Posh.
- a cup of pink salt tea.
- the Hangul carved on a block of wood.
- a forever-cold Kangri.
- a shikara dragging its own reflection.

Nine different flags, all claiming the cadaver. That’s all there is. That’s all that is left.

And then your arm. Like a blaze of life. Arcing in a perfect semicircle. Hurling half-a-brick into the void ahead. The void teeming with khaki. The khaki that rears up in a blaze of talons. The talons streaking flesh over a mouthful of fangs.

As they wait for the slowly darkening blood of your eyes.

the finality
of a fallen mulberry
combing
shadows
in knee-deep snow

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end

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