Table of Contents


Views and Mechanics
Publisher's Note
Editor's Note
Review of Lions at Lamb House
Review of Jamestown
Review of The Children of Húrin
Review of The Politics of Life
Film Review of "300"
Creative Nonfiction
Home
By Marion Agnew
One Foot and Then the Other
By Greg Coykendall
Poetry
Hannah Plays with Light
By Kristine Ong Muslim
Caricature of an Early Planter
By Michael Lee Johnson
Comes a Push-Cart Down a Long-Ass Ghazal
By Levon DeBranch
Modern Day Moses
By Bob Boston
Squares (2) Plaza De Armas, Santiago, Chile
By Graham Burchell
Fiction
The Larchmont Campaign
By Zain Deane
Body Warmth
By Louise Kantro
The Good People Up North
By T.M. Spooner
Triple Word Score
By Patricia C. Meringer
Texans Abroad
By Franklin Strong
Hunting for Manhood
By Jason Sizemore
Staten Island Zen
By Michael Enright
About the Contributors

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Comes a Push-Cart Down a Long-Ass Ghazal
By Levon DeBranch

There are way too many people writing poetry,
and not nearly enough people reading it.

Poets write for the publication credits,
collect them like rare stamps. Each of them,

Aims to be the next Charles Bukowski,
or the next Langston Hughes, or the next Mary Jo

Bang ... or, the next - Lynn Lyfshin. They all want
to be nominated for that damn Push-Cart.

I already have one of those. It's the metal basket
I wheel down the avenue with my bottles in. I write

my poems on discarded newspapers. On yesterday's
papers, I write my own news. I steal pens from the staff

at the shelter I live in when they're not
looking. When I'm not at the shelter,

or meeting with the doctor, I'm at the library;
the nice woman who works there in her spare time

sends poems of mine out to people who publish poetry
on the library computer. I've never used ... one of those

either. I drop by the library once a day to see what's
doing. Me and my cart sometimes

make our way to the city green where I sit on a park
bench - befriending the pigeons and squirrels. I've had a

lot of poems published here and there, but I have never
won a Push-Cart. I'm not even sure what a Push-Cart for

poems is. Is it anything like mine? Why wouldn't they just give
us poets what we need more of? Some paper? A few pens?

Envelopes? Stamps?! Instead, they aim to give us ... cart?
I have to remind myself for the blessings I have. I have the

nice lady in the library who believes in my odes, I get all
the entertainment and friendship I need from the pigeons

and squirrels. Believe it or not, the number of people
who bring their bottles back to the grocery store, is just

about the same as the amount of people in the world
who read poetry. A Push-Cart. The wheels on mine work

just fine. However, If the Push-Cart
is indeed, an actual cart ... depending on what it's made of -

it might make ... a nice box.