• The Sea Books

      by Chris Bird


           They washed up on the shore in the early spring morning unseen and uninvited. At first there were only four or five moving on the brisk waves. Riding the white water they landed on the level brown sand like massive shells from the ocean floor. Then each day the numbers increased, left in clusters on the sand by the ebb and flow of the sea. Soon people came from the nearby village to see.

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    • 2:35 A.M.

      by Peycho Kanev


      The grass is shaking

      but not because the storm outside;

      it’s filled up with the red ants of

      death–so pure, so alive,

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