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Birdsong in the May-Wood tim keane a victory at the pond with an aristocratic assistant, and a creel, and gaze at its gills cool as church walls as complicated as a capillary-scheme and the lamellae that living fish rely upon look around at the sacred impurities like the rusty spigot of the fountain and the soiled edge of the bridal train take it all in beneath the bell take it all within the vessel in the hawthorn-mysteries in the darkness of the basket in the complicated smell of inseparable leaves on a littered altar utilize the fallen water the pump and holy stone see something cross the roof and pass along the rakers and attend the ground as a buried profusion germinating and generating entangled roots toward gnarled trunks and crooked branches to rise and shelter and throw shade and sun patterns on wandering descendants who’ve forgotten us yet reenact us in hair and inherited gait


Structo issue 10  

Our tenth issue features—by accident, honestly—ten short stories, ten poems, two interviews (author Evie Wyld and poet/translator/author/edi...