p o e t i c a . . . . . . 
Hello again, o’ lovers of verse! Thanks to everyone who submitted this month, so many, I did not know poetry had undone so many. It is delightful to receive your envelopes, stuffed with words and dreams, keep them coming. Next month, we’re running a spotlight on the Voices of the Valley, so we won’t be printing unsolicited submissions, but fear not, send them in, and we will amass a gargantuan pile for May and then shower the Hudson Valley with the riches of your poems.    
Brian & Lee Anne

Oral History
Dennis Doherty

Tad loosed words 
on the world like a 
mad gooseherd’s 
man hating gaggle 
asplash in wild winged spumes 
and absurdly menacing 
snaps of skin pinching bills.

He said that western civ’s 
been sitting on its head 
in the matter of the sexes, 
that history’s been written 
by muscle—a feeble scribe 
who only knows the myths 
of hunter/fisher lore, when 
the epi-lap of power, always, 
is the smouldering dynamo 
of every woman’s cunt.

To begin with, men are not strong. 
They carry kids like trophies 
when the hard part’s been done. 
The