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Boyer Rickel

The eyes of fish laid out on beds of ice in the market.

When will this wick of fear burn off?, I wonder.

The air suddenly chill.

In the morning, he found that the giant spiral of wheel ruts in the vacant lot had
filled with rain.

“The silence of outer space never seemed so loud,” the singer said of the death of
his hero.

Boyer Rickel

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Author Discusses Poems