"Now, the moon sustains our blows."

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Issue 13: Free Form

Issue 12: The Necessary Ear

Issue 11: The Necessary Eye

Issue 10: Out on a Limb

Issue 9: The Missing Body

Issue 8: The Lily

Issue 7: Passages

Issue 6: No More Tears

Mark DeCarteret

Taboo Boo

Simply put, this shaggy monster   
lumbers down the breakdown lane 
after talking itself out of centuries 
of walking in circles, being nothing 

but bear.  In its mind it has shaken its stalker. 
Though toothless and slumber-tongued   
in its mind it is something closer        
to a tempest, a drummer of bodies.     

Now, the moon sustains our blows.
Or jittery, numb-bellied, and encased
in glass and metal we are pelted by reports 
of rain, the offspring of nobody 

but the road, its slithery contractions.
On the wall of the rest area's stall
somebody's scratched a shield with a cartoonish bear 
crouched over a forest of stars.  It's been ages

since the rear view's been checked for any kill. 
Even with bones crackling under the tires  
we'll be lucky to register the forwarded fields,    
the skill in which we've sliced through tomorrow.