Volume 95, Issue 91

Tuesday, March 26, 2002
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Editor's Note

The Lush of Davis Avenue

tango down the street

Guilty Pleasures


The New Prostitution


The Accident



The Photos Don't Say

Haiku #4

The Mountain

The Dream of Spring

For Weldon

Dana Taylor's Funeral

See this game?

The Dream of Spring

Leaves burn from the frigidity of the coldness
The wind moans with little hope for contentment
Ice breaks the silence and the sky howls into the greyness it created
the world is a canvas unpainted, a house unfurnished
And music is a distant thought
Patterns of footsteps disappear before my eyes can even blink shut
They re-open and my mind is emerged into the fluttering shapes
The awing brightness in a bleakly unchanged atmosphere
Flashes of spring dance through this weather's victims
Bitterness of cold cracks these drops of warmth
Night stretches across one long season,
Free of daybreak and sunrise,
A mass construction of whiteness
The urging for fire in the emptiness of the earth's hearth
Loneliness, fleshlessness, the enternity of coldness' strength
But just there over the swelling of snow is a whistle... a bird,
and a sliver of light
The unfailing bud of tomorrow... the uncompromising integrity of the changing seasons...
the onset of spring and the release of winter's depression
The leaves unmelt themselves
The wind quiets its settled temper
The air is filled with sound, chaos and the orchestra of the earth's awakening
Music resounds with constancy
Feet abound on every walkway
The sunrays dancing all around leave me blind
The world is a revolving object of transforming light, colour and activity
Winter is a distant memory of snowmen and sleigh rides

–Debra Eveleigh

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