Summer 1944 • Vol. VI No. 3 Poetry |

None

A nothing out of which to create a newWas never nothing enough for a new, neverEmpty lost lone nought enoughTo come clean new in any morning light. Always in that limbo wide as it was,Deep, down, as it was, somebody layQualifying any possible creation.Toppled in that void tossed there, and woke.

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Magna Carta

By Josephine Miles

A nothing out of which to create a newWas never nothing enough for a new, neverEmpty lost lone nought enoughTo come clean new in any morning light. Always in that […]

Deed

By Josephine Miles

A nothing out of which to create a newWas never nothing enough for a new, neverEmpty lost lone nought enoughTo come clean new in any morning light. Always in that […]

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