Page 183 from Issue 74 My anchor was down, I was open. It was unavoidable, ineluctable, sweet. ... Shells and fish burrowed in my body and have stayed. Sand became my skin and seaweed mixed in my hair. ... Today I pull a seahorse from my ear. Tomorrow a snail. Soon I will be able to grow new arms. 183 Issue ...

themselves.-translated by Robert Friend My Samsons Bairn Gouri Look, my Samsons are coming back, the gates of Gaza on ... their shoulders: smiling, they pass by unseeing sentries. Mint. Wind. Crickets. Look, my Samsons are ... coming back, their Delilahs at their feet; they move along my boulevard. I'm awake. Look, my ...

Page 173 from Issue 91 Two Poems Gary Soto Listening to Jets My uncle liked the bluish rings from ... fighter jets And liked the roar, something like water Or his wife-my aunt-in the bathroom, All faucets ... the black rags Of birds pecking at the asphalt. I was pecking at my palm, at the blister From swinging ...

C. Ritardando in My 39th Year Without license I drove a bad car in the dark. I kissed and saved the ... pieces in an envelope and slowed down. My mother telephoned the room where my brother and I slept and ... should." Role Model in My 39th Year I nominated my role model for a Nobel Peace Prize in Woodstock. Who ...