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Volume 2 Number 2 • Fall - Winter 2010-2011
I still don’t understand the craving, but mystery is intriguing, is it not? It’s meaningless and it will always be meaningless… but tonight it fills the page and keeps my worries distracted… They’re giggling on the swing set out back, still high from the ice cream I fed them hours ago. Out of my hair and I feel light as a feather. A swift breeze could toss me into flight, up among the clouds and the others who aren’t weighed down by life’s pressures. Oh lucky me, I think I feel a gust of wind at my back…
Cliff Weber is 23 years old and self-published his first book of poetry last May called Matzo Ball Soup. He writes in order to stay sane, and he cannot stop listening to Arcade Fire’s album “Funeral.”