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Lynne McMahon

Summer/Fall 1997

October 31

By Lynne McMahon

Loose cowl of shoulderless space,  empty flaps and neck hooks—places for the crêped and aged skin  that isn't there except in dream or dim entryway light, half in  half out […]

Winter 2002

Smoketree

By Lynne McMahon

                 It was exactly as the name implied,            a fall and winter ashy skein, a kind of gray diaphane whose nets could bind                  hoarfrost to light                  to smoky thaw, until all […]

Winter 2002

Depression Vacation

By Lynne McMahon

1. Hotel On the famous street where the famous pass by daily,             and the workers on their way to work, important keyed IDs on cotton bands around their necks—             new […]

Summer/Fall 1997

Augury

By Lynne McMahon

In gray, drizzling, leaf-collecting weather, his sweater, starred with burrs and bits of bark, visibly sags (the oiled weave holding the fog in chains so the wearer is actually wearing […]

Summer 1989

Hopkins and Whitman

By Lynne McMahon

Hard to imagine two men more unlike, the one a solitary wrestling in his cell with palpable Doubt, the other striding the continent in great unbooted certainty. And yet there […]