spring 2014
Table of Contents
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Poem for Jeff
Poetry Shortage
Kayla Czaga
In the South Chilcotins
The Shell
Rob Taylor
We Are At Our Best
When the Rain Ceases Falling on Hanover
Richard-Yves Sitoski
Ariadne: the untangler
Fiona Mitchell
Lost and Found Things I Noticed . . . Ricky Garni
I Invent a Character Before Lunch
Steve Klepetar
The Day The Rain Stopped
Jane Mellor
An Interview with a Caribou Richard Kelly Kemick
The Last Year of His Life Barbara Brooks
No Small Effort Joseph Dorazio
The Ford Takes Us to Wreck Beach
Melissa Sawatsky
Lost and Found
I forget what my teachers looked like when I was little.
But I remember what my pencils looked like.
School Bus yellow with Robin Hood green swatches.
Some were short and some were long.
But they all looked exactly alike when they began.
When they began to do what they do.
I wish I could say all my teachers looked exactly alike.
I wish all my teachers said exactly the same thing.
They were all different sizes and all said different things.
I only remember them now because they gave me pencils.
All I really remember is pencils in school and waving goodbye
from the school bus. And I only remember waving goodbye
from the school bus because the school bus was the exact color
of my pencil. School Bus yellow.