by George Perreault a palindrome it’s called a tick tock keeping time or is that something else you know an hourglass is worse than swirl when just an empty skull remains i walk and walk and seems any trail will take me home or strangers point the way though standing on the cliff a spray


by Jim Tilley I’ve been thinking of you, and I’ve been thinking about graphs, those mathematical objects composed of lines joining one point to the next. You’ve been showing me points in your life connected to other points, happenings that, taken together, define who you are, as if you could possibly be defined at all—