Constance Hansen | OR THE ORB

of orange that lay before the woodstove like a rug. Charred cinnamon scent of warmth, that lick of gold, as much or more than what it touched— kids who smelled of salt and the metallic tang of Winter leading us through Fall like dogs. Winds that run their paws on water, hounding barnacled islands. Sonorous…

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TABLE OF CONTENT

POETRY

2022 Vallum Chapbooks

Interview

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ART

 

***Select excerpts of 19:2 can be read online for free. To read the entire issue, purchase a subscription or a single issue.
+++ This essay is only available online and not part of the print edition.