Poetry of Issue #2                        Page 20
Table of Contents Click page 1 Click page 2 Click page 3 Click page 4 Click page 5 Click page 6 Click page 7 Click page 8 Click page 9 Click page 10 Click page 11 Click page 12 Click page 13 Click page 14 Click page 15 Click page 16 Click page 17 Click page 18 Click page 19 Click page 21 The Blog Bog The Mag Rack	HANDS wrote about hands because that was all he saw wrote about the light too because it was connected to his hands         Bob Heman ___________________________         ENTER         has to         enter         the room         because         that is         where         the exit         is                 Bob Heman	MUSIC the silence in the midst of sound your hand searching her folds it is the entrance to the world the key returned whole the music you can almost remember she tells about the man        who got too involved in his journey once the heart digs its little hole        nothing can ever be the same         Bob Heman	SOMETHING level, balanced on its edge, caught in motion, halfway a wedge, something like an oven but not so clean, something mean and open like the August sky, but a little less purple and not so wide, winding slowly to a point inside, singing softly like a bride with child          Bob Heman