Published in: Winter Park, FL
Notes on this Issue:
The summer is in full swing in this swampy, confused, somewhat-urban, somewhat-rural, dangling peninsula. I hope you all aren’t burning to death. I’m trying my best not to. It gets so hot and wet that it’s hard for me to put my pen to paper. Maybe it’s about time I move back to Ohio. I only have a little while to escape before the mosquitos suck me dry. I think the natives had it right when they walked around here in loincloths. In Florida, clothing should be illegal.
- W.B.
Authors in this Issue:
Walter Bickle
Dick Warlock
Arthur Mudd
Poems in this Issue:
W.B.
Summer Feels Like Death: A Response
My Hands atop Kerouac’s (Seven Haikus – II)
Murder as an Act of Passion
A Hunger Pain
D.W.
Wet Dreams
Coldness of a Smile
Heaven is Real
Mexican Star Weed
A.M.
The Outsider Artist
A Mother Neglecting Their Child
Thanks for reading.
