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The Gecko above the Door
His voice is a tiny flash of light. A lighthouse pulsing. An orchid hanging. Waterfalls and almond trees. The skys pressed down: one eye blue, the other pink. Hes been dead for months. Hard black eyes and fetal skin. His voice dogshit white. But it was good, walking in and out -
under his body - exchanging smiles and feeling blessed. |
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Rauan (Ron) Klassnik was made in a flash of light. His dad frowned and his mother poured herself a nice cold glass of water. On the edge of the jungle he now collects love birds and parrots. And two pale grey cockatiels. His poems have appeared (or are forthcoming) in The Mississippi Review, Sentence, Caesura, The Santa Clara Review, The North American Review, Hunger Mountain, MiPoesias, Pilot Poetry, No Tell Motel and others. |
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Date of Publication: 02 May 2007 |
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