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Grey Sparrow Journal and Press, as of January 31, 2018 will move to

Issue 30, July 31, 2017
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I stared at the massive Blue Rock
Mesa. I shouted, "Hello." The echo
Came thundering back. The pale blue
Rock returned my greeting.
"How are you today?" I shouted.
"I'm fine, how are you?"
No! No! No!
Echoes aren’t supposed to talk back. 
I searched the rock to see if someone
was playing a joke. It seemed clear that
no one was there. I knew full well those
bluish rocks were inanimate and couldn't
answer back.
If the rock can't talk, what did I hear? I
sat and pondered. One thought became
inescapable. The echo I heard must
all be in my head.
I shouted again, “ Bite the wall.” The echo
came back, “ You jerk, I am the wall.”
                                                    -Mike Berger


Icarus was my hero until he got
tangled in the power lines.
The frogs that answered his woeful
cries for help,
stood and laughed at the tangled mess.
There laughter was a rancorous chorus.  [Their ... or There, laughter was a rancorous chorus?]
What drove noble Icarus to fly?
No good could ever come of it.
He like me
yearned to be free.
Poor Icarus was tethered to
the Earth, cinched down by Sir Isaac Newton’s
immutable laws.. [...]
I on the other hand am cinched down [I trust you do not want to add the commas re I, on the other hand, am cinched down anywhere in the poem--that's understandable if that is your vision for the work.]
by tradition and social expectation.
My tethers are harder and  stronger
than his.

-Mike Berger