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Books by dPress

Wax Museum
Poems by Belle Randall
Cover by Luis Garcia

Walking through walls
appearing to cut

A person in half—all
magic consists

Of a handful of tricks.
You learn them quickly

And live with great sorrow.
Trade secret number one:

Those who know donít talk.
Number two: those who talk

Donít know. Number three:
none of my tricks is magic,

But no one can explain them anyway.

Angio Gram
Poems by Charles Potts
Cover by Luis Garcia
Samson in the Ambulance

If your heart attacks
While mine retreats,
Watch my tombstone EKGs
Ratchet back to ordinary
And realize it was a bad time
To be without
An up-to-date
List of my
Near death experiences.

When you get to the truth
Does the truth get to you?
Serious As a Heart Attack

Serious as a heart attack
People say
Trying for emphasis.

I've heard the phrase.
Now I can use it
With authority.

What does serious mean to you?
Matter of life and death?
"Stop acting like it was a
Matter of life and death,"
My mother used to say.

How serious was he?
Serious as a heart attack.

A Year in Cows
Poems by Jane Booth
Cover by author
Late September

The earth is fat and rich and generous from all our rains, crawdads crawling
out of the creeks and burrowing in the fields.

And really, these autumn skies have been beautiful, the storms fantastic.
The lightening at night is spectacular—the trees turn white and the sky
black, and then they switch places and then back again. No oneís sleeping
after 2 a.m.

A long slow ride through all the corners of the ranch yesterday revealed no
struck cattle. In the Flint Hills, there were eight that went down at once,
a smoldering carpet of cows found in the morning.

Even Steven
Poems by Luis Garcia
Cover by author
Artwork by author
for Steve Arnaudo

I am thinking sadly
of the Grand Canyon.
I am thinking sadly
of how the stories of our lives

are quickly being told—
of how our lives
quickly and quietly unfold.

I am thinking sadly—
this is the way it is,
this is always
the way it is.

I am thinking sadly
of peaches and ice cream,
and of the love-stained words
which inhabit my dreams.
I am thinking sadly
of porcelain cups
filled to the brim
with piping hot tea.

I am thinking sadly of you.
I am thinking sadly of me.
I am thinking sadly of a bird of ashes
which is building its nest
in the branches of an ancient tree.

Hands of mist are beating this gong.
Lips of mist are blowing this trumpet
which is overflowing with darkness—
are singing this song

which like our lives
does not last long.

Celestial Cattlecall
Poems by Lee Harris
Cover designed
by Richard Denner

I grew up a loser and
dreamed about yogis
who lose their self
all life long, I read
Mila Repa and tried
with my guitar to pick
out his no-self song
my third eye could not
see what old mahasiddhis
saw when they were crazy
or straight, but finally
I got wise to just what
they realized—go wise
up before itís too late!
My heroes have always
been yogis...and they
still are today, so I
found me a Lama as brave
as a Brahma bull rider
what more can I say
Some yogis are rude with
strange attitudes, "donít
you hang on to nothiní too
long," eat what youíre
given and pray for a livin
near burning ghats where
dead belong, dance with
a Dakini who drinks blood
martinis then fades back to
emptiness, when you really
get beat—time to stop
your retreat...only three
years have passed more or
less, my heroes have always
been yogis and a yogi Iíll
become some day, when I die
it donít matter cause my
mind stream wonít scatter
while my ashes drift slowly

Lemon Leg Dances
Among Eager
Circus Afternoons

Poems by Kim Secunda
Cover by author
on a perilous night
suspended by golden cords
little sister
blew on the mirror of Union
thirsty for daybreak
weeping for the hungry dog
she sank
back on the cushion
to die
a horse sat beside
on the river of stairs
and ate candy
bitter moonlight falls
on the cold little monkey

He shall
enter this room

razorblade smile
menthol moonbeam

He shall
walk down with

Rebel Girls
Poems by Leila Castle
Cover by author

Flying free
that is our true nature
riding our dancing ponies
across the sky
streaming garlands
racing comets
spraying rainbows
fleets of dakinis
naked and laughing
in cowboy boots
no monastery
filled with monks
this time
renegade tulkumas

Neighing horses wake me
the ponds steam dawn mists
curling through cattails

Walking in the dark
last night stumbling
under a highway of stars
jet black star-splashed
milky way spray
looks like appaloosa
spots reflected
in the pond water
magic mirror

Coyotes yip on the edge
of dreams

Double Play
Poems by Luis Garcia
and Richard Denner
Cover by Luis Garcia

The Dodgers are tied,
tied up with the Giants,
tied up in the cellar.

Bats hang from the ceiling.
you need them
to play the game right.

write down the pitch.
Write down the middle.

don't strike any out,
don't strike any out.

A man starts a fire
in a fire place.

Another man starts a fire
in a fire pit.

Two friends
are lit by
a single flame

dances to a sound
it hears

in a place
as round
as it can be—

a circle of fire,
a circle of friends.

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