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Kenny Fries

Winter 1994

Islands

By Kenny Fries

Near. Toward morning. The sky clears and I begin to find you once again beside me. There are islands in the middle of the lake– hidden by mist–Who can exist […]

Winter 1994

The Canoe Ride

By Kenny Fries

We are trying to find the waterfall –all afternoon, along the edges of the lake, the high-pitched calls of loons. (Imprecise directions.) We pass through the canal–shallow, silent. You explore […]