Albert Park by Alice Miller

I hear the sea how we come back claiming to be altered when

the painting of the barracks shows once we were never

live in what�s now owned by us, round trees curled

down to hear your thoughts starred

bold but let�s walk unscripted to the bar where we sang

when we knew

Tika by Saradha Koirala

Goodbye takes the form of a
blessing.

My family press tika on our
foreheads

rupees into my palm.



Mountain-high through time
and air

the red paint dries, the
rice grains fall

leaving a trail that could
surely lead us home.



But sometimes you can't tell
what you've seen

until you close your eyes

and the imprint reveals



an inverted world of
darkened brights

and a pale sky

a halo

The night I pierced my own belly button by Maria McMillan

Can�t wait to get out



of this hole of a town

she said. For years

we�d been planning

our escape. Had compiled

a list of compulsory

adventures involving

our own brilliant selves

and various disposable

sidekicks in locations

ranging from the giant

aquarium tank in

downtown Monterey

to a moonlit bridge

in Vietnam arched like a

bony cat�s back, to mountains

with names only we knew.

just a point man in the ocean by Vaughan Gunson

just a point man in the ocean

holding a piece of rope



which starts at one point

on the shore, arcs out towards



the black island rocks, their skirts

of white foam billowing up



like Marilyn Monroe�s dress

long ago, or yesterday



distracted by what�s beneath

the ocean, to go down diving for



� screams
of children



bring me back, a chorusrising high with each