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Tarot Cards and UFOs, by Mark Rudolph (10/20/03)
Poetry.
My mother is seeing a fortune teller / because she wants to know / the exact date, time, and place / the aliens will land.
Surreal Wedding, by Mark Rudolph (5/26/03)
Poetry.
The sign says CHURCH and at the top / of the hill, guarded by the granite names / of dead parishioners, it is the only piece / of architecture for miles around / neither tumbling down nor recently erected.
Threnody at Sea, by Mark Rudolph (12/10/01)
Poetry.
the ocean steals anything it wants: / bridges, ships, even entire cities; / then throws it all back—warped / and bleached, battered beyond recognition.
Going Once, by Mark Rudolph (6/18/01)
Fiction.
No matter how hard Aaron tried, he couldn't ignore the day he dreaded most: the day Darren's body would be auctioned off, piece by piece, to the highest bidder.
Words of Love, Soft and Tender, by Mark Rudolph, illustration by Cathy Buburuz (12/4/00)
Fiction.
Two black eyeless heads, one over each of her shoulders, puffed out green feed-me spoors. Garskein should have left her babies at home—her neck pouch must ache from the weight—but no one could tell her anything. Usually, a parent ate a first brood before their mouths opened.