December 18-31, 2006: Sandy Hiss and Bob Marcacci

week of December 18-31, 2006

Sandy Hiss and Bob Marcacci



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Sandy Hiss
SandyB1070@msn.com

Bio (auto)

Sandy Hiss’ poetry and fiction have appeared in Cabaret New Angeles, Autographs, Eskimopie, Scorched Earth, Autumn Leaves, The Cat’s Meow, Poet’s Haven, True Poet, The Green Silk Journal, Ken*Again, Thick With Conviction, Fresh!, Bolts of Silk, Zone, KuPoZine, and CC&D Her work is forthcoming in Falling Star Sandy resides in Cheyenne, Wyoming, with her two beautiful children and husband She is also the editor of Flutter, an online poetry Magazine Visit Sandy on the web here: http://violetmuse.blogspot.com/

The following work is Copyright © 2006, and owned by Sandy Hiss and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

Lightning Bugs

The boys were at it again Clutching empty pickle jars,
searching for prey If only
their mothers’ knew they were
harboring killers clothed in torn
denim with holes in the knees

and scabs on their consciences Lightning bugs buzzed through
the pines, playing tag with the
stars The sound of branches
cracking like old bones echoed
through the forest, leaving a trail

of death’s footsteps in the earth The boys returned, carrying jars
of twinkling lights that quickly
dimmed into darkness And I
wondered if my own light would
burn out as fast or slowly fade.


Bob Marcacci
bmarcacci@gmail.com

Bio (auto)

California Vacavillian presently living and writing in Beijing, China Recent work has appeared in Chicago Postmodern Poetry, Hamilton Stone Review, Moria, Ocho and xStream, among others Host of the International Literary Open Mic every Wednesday evening at The Bookworm in Beijing, member
of the poetry group Subterraneans, and PJ for The Countdown at http://miporadio.blogspot.com/
Visit Bob on the web here: http://marcacci.blogspot.com/

The following work is Copyright © 2006, and owned by Bob Marcacci and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

i do my wash
think of baudelaire as my clothes spin
leave for a cup of coffee
a major fault in my relationships
no dithering cloud-monger

an irish woman serves me
i ask about a bracelet
she tells me she made it and that
there’s a story behind every bead


developed far
beyond expect-
ations he re-
sults sulks
inordinate
numbers pli-
ocene ocean
transpacific
incidental
cumberous
indigo leers
subliminal a
detoxication
of minor or
harmonic de-
lights crank
shaft of a sax-
ophone o god