More Horror...with some refreshments

Well, apparently i have some poetry linked to my name on the web. A literary magazine I edited (and of course used to showcase my own writing) is now on the internet. actually, i was forced to put my own writing in it. strong-armed, threatened, blackmailed...i folded. our advisor always threatened it's existence on the web, but i never believed she'd marshall the manpower to actually do it. one of my poems is rather salacious, though it is a tamer version of the real thing. i know you'll look it up after that disclaimer you filthy-minded reader, you. but i like it. it's metaphoric. you can pretty much say anything as long as you add, "It's a metaphor." It doesn't even have to make sense. anyhow, here is a lovely refreshing poem from one of the alumni: When the First Seed Catalog Comes Judith Taylor Graham All winter we burn trash on the garden accumulating ashes: old magazines, drafts of letters, cereal boxes, packaging. The compost pile gets egg shells, potato peelings, piths and rinds and coffee grounds. One dead squirrel the dogs delivered home. Spring is that simple day we turn things under: soil so rich and brown we forget what makes it sweet and speak of seeds as a beginning