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down ravines of briar, burning with wing By Haley Wooning QuailBellMagazine.com
2. down ravines of briar, burning with wing pale evening river-marsh The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
AgathaUnder, over, under, over, the motion is constant. The ground is damp. The trees are woven together in an intricate design, adding to the mystery of the forest. I smell the earthy scent of dirt, bark, and moss with each step I take. The movements through the trees make me feel graceful; as if I am dancing with the forest. I can't remember how long I've been doing this dance. When exactly did I enter these woods? Why did I step into fog at the edge of that beautiful, sparkling, river that morning? The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Losing WeightI can’t seem to do it with my body, so I do it with my stuff, handing out notebooks and The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
MethodsBy M. C. St. John QuailBellMagazine.com While brewing the coffee, she says, Write positive things, full-metered and bursting with color. Find the time on your lunch break. In the bath. With me. On me. Under me. It’s how I make all the time. It could do you some good. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Running NumbersBy M. C. St. John QuailBellMagazine.com At first, he lost count of the freckles on her left thigh, the spent cigarettes in the painter’s palette, the laughter. Math was never his strength, the sum of cups of coffee, puns, and touches all like terms--what variable is bliss? The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
A Dot of Fire on a Frozen Field"Most souls, 'tis true, but peep out once an age, Dull sullen pris'ners in the body's cage." -Alexander Pope I Spring (Early morning in a Park Ridge backyard) BRUCE: It's the music and the booze, Wayne, I can't deal with it anymore, the pain between my eyes is killing me, besides I gotta sober up to give those guys rides. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
In PlaceBy Travis McGill QuailBellMagazine.com A tangible milk with a thousand milky eyes on its milky body, creating one souring, white being is staring back at me, taunting.
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