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2:30 am Woodland Place

On the last day of August I fell at the knees of planetary affairs, the impossible turned
me over: clemency— (I was shown a house with a yard in summer.) And I had lain in
the back under the worn down stars and clambering diesel engines, the sign in the
night. And no one can tell me it’s time to stop drinking and go to bed because no one
knows the word. No one knew the mineral twilight, a dark cool morning in the tall


The long tide beats out one thing—

that the dilapidated pier walks out into the bay, that there are hills behind the hills,
the reservoir turns green,



in the presence of a hard way
has not been a waste.

The world we have now
is enough.



Jennifer E. Brown is a San Francisco native and has an MA in Creative Writing from San Francisco State University. Her work has appeared in Fourteen Hills, Lungfull!, The Indiana Review, and Forklift, Ohio. In 2013 she was nominated for a Pushcart Prize.