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home poetry fiction essays literary reviews Up the Staircase in... contests back issues submissions editors friends legal statement

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Release I remember seeing little half-naked village kids running behind shiny cars. Suddenly, I can relate. Onlookers would act embarrassed. Those in the car, amused. The flower does not say goodbye to the sun until its last petal begins to fold... and by then, its too late. ©S.P.

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S.P. is the resident poet of Up the Staircase.