THE HUNT   by Fishguy (M. Solomon) In early morning, Still hazy in low places, Tense anticipation Marks arrival of our quarry.

UNTITLED 1  by Fishguy (M. Solomon) The smell of small cooking from luckier houses Is cruel to the maimed cat Hiding in carpenters shavings From two small boys armed with sticks, Who, born of human parents, Cry when locked in the dark.