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The Drowners by Jacqueline Jones
published in Volume 1, Issue 2 on March 15, 1994

Kalian desires roam the street. This street where a woman and her vagabond veggibound companion clutches a busted bodrhan blasted by cosmic feedback!

In her right hand she holds a staff for to take into fields of Elysium, infinite unsubdued fields that seem to cover the whole earth like some kind of emerald gem greenprint plan for survival.

They walk through pasturized, uncomplicated fields strewn with cows, they have their pentagrams and wellington boots. Something mystical is about to happen. The milk from cows teats flows backwards, they hang upside down. And this is no joke.

Pools wind like spools, concentric springs in a cyclycal culture of the unquiet great mother, as they reach out to caress some insensate animal gathering sensory overload in their arms, ripples of a heavy cow-bog moisture, and discovering that the world is not entirely green, they dive in to sacrifice their lives, and root like preserves in memory, their actions to be repeated, legends orally transmitted through the ages, and they crying, come in and join us!

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