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Poetry of Stanley Moss (a 199-word review + samples)
There is no pleasure like a hot-spring bath. Ideally naked we slip into the steam and mineral cooking-egg smell of it, sliding bare buttocks down the slickly gnarled sloping rock until our chin rests on the amber surface of the water. If we pray, we pray to the forces of sacred nature, laughing and arguing as we might across the Thanksgiving table. We are part of their family. I lied in that first sentence. Reading Stanley Moss is a hot-spring pleasure—an escape into healing intensities, words kneading the aches from intellect, feeling, and spirit.Read More
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Now and Then, by Murray Moulding (a 199-word review)
It had been a long day’s grind into inanition. In bed I tried reading but fell asleep. I got up a while later and walked in the dark. I knew all the sharp corners and the distribution of toe-bruising dangers—like the mini-grotto of amethyst crystals in a halved chunk of stone, the heavy meditating Buddha made of resin. But near the kitchen I bumped the dining room table and heard a muffled patter like a dropped jigsaw puzzle. I flicked on the light. Some jigsaw pieces lay scattered on the floor. Not many.Read More