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Adulthood veins on the back of the hand like tracks of a bird stopped cold in the dusk, wondering what happened to its wings

To my Daughter who Joined the Safety Patrol In fact, ever since you were born it’s been safe to cross the street. My arms were your first station. I wore hope like a badge.

Bourbon Sunset in a glass. Flame we lap. I am swallowing the world as it swallows me.

poems by Mark Jackley

Profile for Burner Magazine

Burner Magazine, issue 01 (September 2010)  

The inaugural issue of Burner Magazine, which aims to take the boring out of the literary and arts scenes.

Burner Magazine, issue 01 (September 2010)  

The inaugural issue of Burner Magazine, which aims to take the boring out of the literary and arts scenes.

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