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issue 7.02   ::   fall 2017
Scary Bush

Our bravest contributors have shared with us some of their more earnest efforts from the misty past. Scary Bush should not be reviewed while in the process of drinking liquids, and the reader assumes all risk.


Sheila Wellehan



Rebecca Connors

Casting me
off his shoulder
I fell, shaking to alone
If a far if should come along—
I am waiting with possibility

Here is a time
like yesterday’s present—
letters cradled inside the drawer, next
    to old papers, burnt photographs,
these arms hold my past,
I place the words so far away
but in my ears, they ring
deeper than a whispered yes

Here is the constant
on the street,
movements of a clear perspective—
streets are colored differently now,
but they breathe
the same               lazy               syllables
in fractured tongues, the tired
hello,   ignoring the

new in my face.
How well can I learn my landscape?
The potential is in the blue
open space,
if I put my feet through it
I can arrive—

Can you embrace the if? Because I feel
strength in
your absence
—defined by
the taste of your tongue, the
of your eyes—

words are never abused, I can enjoy
your blue silence—

breathing immensity


Kristin LaTour


Little Devils

Alisha Mughal

We work so hard to seem simple.

My mother first told me about the devils when I was twelve years old. She didn’t mean to tell me, particularly. I could’ve been anyone, but I was there. I don’t think she could take it anymore. Take it alone. It came out ostensibly as an accidental slip, but really she’d deftly worked it into a conversation seemingly casual, a conversation contrived by her to seem casual. Everything was, is now revealing itself to be, so overwrought with her. Everything calculated and deliberate, nothing unnecessary.

Name Of

Jessica Morey-Collins

Name Of

Slave to the Full Moon

Alyssa Mazzoli

Ever since the fateful night,
When I received the painful bite,
Never the same my life has been,
Me committing sin after sin,
Trapped in a mental cage,
Senses overrun with rage,
A slave to the full moon.

When it rises as do I,
Oblivious to my victims cry,
I watch them draw one last breath,
Right before their untimely death,
A part of me always wants to help,
The other doesn’t care what they felt,
A slave to the full moon.

A horrible sight I must be,
My face alive with evil glee,
Bloodshot eyes sunk in my head,
That’s what they see on their deathbed,
Wicked fangs protruding down,
Upon their now lifeless crown,
A slave to the full moon.

By day I go as merry peasant,
Though full moon nights are never pleasant,
I say I enjoy my life by day,
But my thoughts are seldom so gay,
For I am haunted by the dread,
That tomorrow morning more shall be dead,
A slave to the full moon.

Now I would welcome a silver bullet to the head,
But it would just mean that I was now dead,
It wouldn’t bring those I killed back,
Nor grant them the life they now lack,
For I’m tired of roaming,
Groaning and moaning,
As a slave to the full moon.

The Frog

Suzanne Langlois

The Frog

Inanna/Dumuzi: Love Song

Brenda Mann Hammack

Tongue-playing, they snake,
intertwine on a bed of rushes.
She unbinds her hair, amber-
mouthed and kohl-eyed, reaches
for the shepherd's staff,
his reed growing high,
as the Tigris and Euphrates
flow over. He pours
into her holy churn. Her honey-
man, her honey-moon, risen
from compost. Sweet as
cedar and juniper resin
burning. Inanna
and Dumuzi, her shepherd
king, unlike Jesus.
She holds him in her yoke until he lows.


Jessica Morey-Collins


Night Thoughts

Devon Balwit

I wake in darkness and cannot flee my mind:
The way it, restless, wrestles, worries, frets,
Regrets, tallies each misstep, stumble, debt,
cannot let go, obsesses, maligned,
Tumbles down rabbit holes, traps designed
To terrify, to shame, threaten, dialogues fraught
With innuendo, blame, a hunter’s net,
The hours stretching long, lone, unkind.
Dawn, yearned for but far, fair,
Clear, rational, nuanced, balanced, free
from demons—How to arrive, awake and whole,
Sunrise, releasing me from noisome air,
unshackling me from unforgiving me,
Restoring both my body and my soul?