Membership Information and Submission Guidelines are posted at:
http://sol-magazine-projects.org/prodigy/sol.magazine/rqmts.htm
 
 

• EMERGE/AWAKE
• SILLY-KU
• HINT OF A DREAM
• THE UNIVERSE
• EDITOR'S CHOICE - APRIL
• Staff info

FIRST PLACE - Winner of a $10.00 electronic book gift certificate.

Spring Echoes

The robins return daring more snow
still they stay, they nest, they sing,
the cats are pacing window to window
indoor-hunting outdoor birds and
 
stalking squirrels uncaching acorns
impatiently meowing nature awakening,
the snow keeps melting into spring
and children are full of mud puddles.
 
Kathy Paupore, Kingsford, MI, USA

First Calf of Spring

Enveloping, welcoming darkness
Tethered umbilical smorgasbord
Heartbeat a soothing comfort, while
Floating in thoughtless dream state

Compressed, then rudely awakened and
Pushed through the eye of a needle
Assaulted by bright light and sound
Consoled by a rough tongue of greeting

SJ Baldock, Lancaster, TX, USA

Tree's Triolet to Terra Firma

My hair rustles, human-leaves.
I breathe your beetled voice: The Whisper-Giver,
from the hollow arms of my sleeves,
as my hair rustles, human-leaves.

The wind barks, Listen! Humus heaves,
scratches backs of worms who shiver.
My hair rustles, human-leaves.
I breathe your beetled voice: The Whisper-Giver.

Maryann Hazen Stearns, Ellenville, NY, USA

Bear-ly There

She nestles tiny, acorn babies
beneath a gone-to-ground, light breath.
The heavy body knows they are there
and while a mother stupors, they wait.

Ursa major and minors newly aware
emerge to greet bright yellow-green,
move about playing in a new, fat Spring
shedding unlit dirt for sunlit, tender growth

Claiborne S. Walsh, Montrose, AL, USA

Finches greet the rising sun,
Golden voices sweetly spun.
Red-winged blackbirds in the trees
Sing their descant to the breeze.

Buntings on the apple boughs,
Meadowlarks amidst the cows,
Robins in the sky so blue –
Spring’s alarm clock ringing true

Elizabeth Barrette, Charleston, IL, USA
COMMENTS:  A sweet welcome-song to the rising Spring morning, with a lilting rhyme scheme that exemplifies the happy nodding nature of Spring's air.  Beautiful imagery with careful attention to both colors and animals, and how they fit together.  Nice concept at the end of Spring's "alarm clock."
============
Solicitous

Sleepy-eyed slugs
Slither from burrows
Leaving silver trails
On glossy hibiscus leaves

Caught in spring joy
Gardeners lift the critters
Rather than slapping them
Swiftly with spades

Lois Lay Castiglioni, Galveston, TX, USA
COMMENTS:  Wonderful alliteration, as well as mental images such as "sleepy-eyed slugs."  With its shift to saving lives, rather than "slapping them / Swiftly with spades" (more great alliteration there), this poem not only celebrates the sparing of the slugs, but also helps parallel the uplift we all feel when spring's first warmth nudges the air.  A celebration of every creature, not just the upright ones, done with alliterative charm.
============
The Bear Emerging

Great shambling beast emerges
ravenous from darkened den.
Other creatures fall still, fearing
scimitar claws savaging fallen logs.

Hot tongue licks up insects,
plumps its flesh with fish until
appetite appeased, bulky body
yawns a greeting to spring.

SuzAnne C. Cole, Houston, TX, USA
COMMENTS:  Truly a magnificent scene, the bear awakening from its long winter sleep.  Excellent word choices to help convey the sheer mass of the creature, as well as the contrast between it and the smaller life forms around it.  Very nice adjectives, such as "scimitar," are unusual but apt.  Nice double meaning in "fall still," as well as a parallel with the "fallen logs" in the next line.
============
Aphids Away

Sleepy Ladybug raises her head
Dusts off her bright red dress
Then rushes to my flower bed
To rid plants of aphids' sticky mess

Now I am the one to hibernate
In the comfort of my room
Where I sit still and wait
To admire each pansy bloom

Kay Lay Earnest, Smyrna, GA, USA
COMMENTS:  A very amusing title!  This is a wonderful painting of Nature helping Man, rather than the other way around.  The opening stanza is marvelous in its clarity of image, as well as amusing in its droll concepts of "dusting off her bright red dress."  Nice parallel in the final stanza of Man to a hibernating creature, awaiting the success of the Ladybug in her endeavors.
============
Emergence of a Monarch
 
Underside the milkweed
Crown of gold on jade green
A beautiful Monarch
Breaks free and spreads wings
Chrysalis is shed
Orange-black wings full of might
Once fully rested
She embarks her long flight
 
Deborah H. Nunn, Atlanta, GA, USA
COMMENTS:  Sparce, yet full of lovely journalistic description.  Particular word choices allow the viewer/reader to be in the scene.
============
Caterpillars to Butterflies

Such a lovely green,
but now they've spun
a chalky white around
their gangly selves.

See how they wobble
beneath the leaves,
excited, perhaps, by
transformative dreams.

Terrie Leigh Relf, San Diego, CA, USA
COMMENTS:  Meant to be spoken aloud, a sort of musing aloud to oneself, or perhaps to another;  this has the feeling of intimacy, of a whisper that is shared between two Nature lovers observing.  Nice contrasts between colors, and wonderful twist of "transformative dreams."
============
Recipe for My Husband, Each Spring
 
Wake early and do not shave.
Remove remaining flannel.
(Pale winter skin soon darkens with perspiration and sun.)
Open shed. Ignore scurrying spiders.
 
With shovel and hoe, move earth.
Marvel at worms, ladybugs, and the scent of warming soil.
Sow seeds and starts with tenderness, deft hands, and love.
Nurture that you've sown until summer, every year.
 
Shannon Riggs, Honolulu, HI, USA
COMMENTS:  Proving that animals are not the only ones to shed their winter coats, this has the feeling of half-amusement, half-seriousness woven throughout.  The narrative style is especially appreciated, as it has the air of a soft statement, perhaps even of a letter left for a husband.  The frequent line stops fit well with the subject matter.  Charming, double-meaning title lends much to the poem, as well.
============
Bear With Me

The hard, cold dreams of ice
Recede, and new, fresh smells
Wake me, make me hungry;
Life is hunger.

Hunger is life, trying to succeed,
Trying to fill out the emptiness
Of night with something that just
Might be dawn..  It is a hunger.

George Stateson, Grand Prairie, TX, USA
COMMENTS:  The reader is left wondering - is this about the poet, or about a winter animal?  The interesting part of reading this is attempting to analyze it from both points of view, and finding the parallels there.  The concept of "hunger is life" fits in with the business world, with our world as it is today, but it is also a very real part of every animal's life (especially a freshly-woken hibernating bear).  The final stanza is beautifully written, with a wistful tone to it that makes the reader believe this is about far more than just a bear.
============
Early Waking, Slow Rising

At the first hint of warmth
Something stirs in the earth,
A faint breath of fresh life,
The first sign of rebirth.

The new spring calls above,
Yet the burrow's so snug....
Hibernation is past,
Venturing out yet to come.

Katherine Swarts, Houston, TX, USA
COMMENTS:  A mysterious opening...a feeling of breathlessness in "At the first hint / Something stirs."  Words are carefully chosen here to properly convey the conviction of Spring's restorative powers.  Here, Spring is seen as almost a magician, waving a magic wand to stir, as if by unseen strings, the critters under the earth.  Then in the second stanza, there's a wonderful foil to this - the idea of the critter being burrowed in so snugly, they don't quite want to get up.  Beautiful portrait of the limbo between hibernation and "venturing out," with Spring calling from above.
============
False Alarm

Silken noses twitch a dance
to the scents of spring.
Sunlight fingers caress
shadowed corners, alerting.

Furry bundles arouse,
venture out of dark corners
in search of unexpected delights.
What’s all this white stuff?

M. E. Wood, Belleville, ON, CAN
COMMENTS:  Impish lines with marvelously touch-feel words such as "silken noses" and "furry bundles."  Nice image of the pervasiveness of Spring, leaking into each corner with "sunlight fingers," to waken the world, bringing out the "furry bundles."  The real laugh comes in the final line, when one realizes that just because Spring is here does not always mean the snow is gone - a lovely coup de grace to this song of awakening (and realization).
============
Awaking Renewal

Time to wake
Dear grizzly-bear
And, smell the cleansing
Of springtime air

Emerge from within
The cave you dwell
Wake to live
By its magic spell

Daisy Autry Worrock, Abingdon, VA, USA
COMMENTS:  With short, breathless lines, this has the air of one who has run a long distance to deliver an important message.  One can imagine this as being Spring speaking, rushing around the world to come waken this singular bear from his deep sleep, leaning into his burrow, singing, "Time to wake!"  The brevity of the lines, and the sing-song rhythm, lend to this feeling of "being a messenger," and bringing the glorious song of Spring's awakening to the animal world.  Nicely done.

Back to contents
 

We asked our poets to put words together in a 5/7/5 form to create a kind of portmanteau we dubbed "Silly-Ku."  Note that humor was the largest part of this competition, but form was also important.  These poets rose to the challenge in many creative and unexpected ways.  There were so many entries that only those that fit the form, and registered on the audible laugh meter were included here.
============
FIRST PLACE - Winner of a $15.00 electronic book gift certificate.

Fospindilate (Fold, Spindle, or Mutilate)

Oh, dead letter box,
do not fospindilate me
into that good night

George Stateson, Grand Prairie, TX, USA

Celegration (celebrating, migration)

Maestro Mockingbird
Celebrates copyright theft
Of migrating flocks

Lois Lay Castiglioni, Galveston, TX, USA

Gynekidlogical (gynecologist, kid)

Room prep neglected
Stirrups extend from table
"Cup holders!!!" - squeals child

SJ Baldock, Lancaster TX, USA

Stockini (stocking, bikini)

my swimsuit this year
flesh-colored body stocking
no sun block needed

Maryann Hazen Stearns, Ellenville, NY, USA

Phonescent (phone, adolescent)

ignoring the ring
with teenagers in the house
it is not for me

Deborah P. Kolodji, Temple City, CA, USA

kittens tiptoe close
tulips bob so temptingly
until all pounced flat

Elizabeth Barrette, Charleston, IL, USA
COMMENTS:  Vivid portrait, with an interesting title.
=============
Particide (partner, homicide)

praying mantises
linked in love's embrace until
she bites off his head

SuzAnne C. Cole, Houston, TX, USA
COMMENTS:  Very serious reporting, yet the dual meaning of "bites his head off" brings a laugh.
=============
Geneunion  (generation, reunion)

At our reunions
Pasted on each smiling face
Are hand-me-down genes

Kay Lay Earnest, Smyrna, GA, USA
COMMENTS:  Lovely twist of a commonly used phrase.
=============
Immortalmunity (immortal, immunity)

Mortals would have more
hope of immortality
in immune bodies

Jeanette Oestermyer, Roswell, NM, USA
COMMENTS:  Wry take on a serious topic.
============
Frustracarpation  (frustration, carping)

noise echos through house
from Jordan's new music box
drat generous Mom

Gary Wade, Williston, VT, USA
COMMENTS:  The irony of this poem is self-apparent.
============
Grewash  (grew, wash)

Day by day I see
To what lengths my hair will go
To get attention

Daisy Autry Worrock, Abingdon, VA,  USA
COMMENTS:  Another silly ku with a serious universal appeal.
=============

Back to contents
 

FIRST PLACE - Winner of a $15.00 electronic book gift certificate.

Eventide Arabesque

On the brink of consciousness,
Lurking somewhere between the realms
Of inertness and cognizance,
Like lacework they’re knitted:
Tatted visions; embroidered illusions;
Creweled fantasies; cross-stitched creations.
Crocheted intersections criss-cross
Into mind-wandering, one-way obscurities.

Lashes tickled by unfiltered rays
Unfold to brush off the lingering strands.
Like an arachnid-spun entanglement
Eye-opening fists grind frail filaments,
Swiping away the delicate threads
Of my dreams.

Kathy Kehrli, Factoryville, PA, USA

Dreamtide

Sleep is deep water,
A strong undertow pulling me
Out and down past the sandman’s shore.
Far above, the surface shimmers and
Dimples, a mirror of my dreams.
They dance in rainbow colors, a thin film
Of fragrant oil refracting light where
Air and ocean meet, while
Rose petals drift downward to
Spill from the wind’s fingers and sprinkle
The ripples with insight.  Seen from below,
The waking world seems unreal, wavering
Dimly beyond the bright edge.  Yet every day
When the tide goes out, I rise from the waves
All clad in a sheen of dreams, their radiance
Evaporating slowly in the sun
As I step from foam to
Firm ground.

Elizabeth Barrette, Charleston, IL, USA

A Wild Idyll
 
Hiking trails and waterfalls
such tranquility
until a herd of poets
comes crashing through
my dream
 
Chittering and whooping
they forage about for words
then with frenzied snatching
they pluck the fruit
squeeze the juice
from unsuspecting phrases
 
Terrie Leigh Relf, San Diego, CA, USA

April

April had the best intentions
Of composing her English themes
Until spring winds puffed out the curtains
Lifting her into a passing world of dreams

Lois Lay Castiglioni, Galveston, TX, USA

Night Voyage

Night flowers, blossoming
below her heart, mature,
send seeds rocketing, parabolic,
into a sea of liquid tranquility,
engendering a leafy raft.

The dreamer boards, glides
over the water, stroking the sea
like a lover.  Rocked by raft rhythm,
lulled by insect hum, slips into a sun nap.
 
Dreaming within her dream,
shocked by a nightmare fish,
torpedo body, ravenous teeth.
Raft and languor dissolving,
she, placating, offers it her hand.

Awakes, sweating, her hand a hook.

SuzAnne C. Cole, Houston, TX, USA

Awaken bud!
Burst into flower
-- Entice a bee
Disperse your
Anther-borne powder.

Fertile with promise
Ripe ovum distends
-- Engorged with dream
Of plump, sweet,
Summer-born peach.

SJ Baldock, Lancaster TX, USA
COMMENTS:  Gorgeous word choices by this poet lead the reader through this entreaty.  Wonderfully written.
============
Shadow Talk
 
I watch in silence
as night passes quietly,
and shadows paint pictures
on blinds.
 
Listen
as solitude vacuums
the room leaving only
rumpled bed covers.
 
I whisper to emptiness
of visions
I'd like to have,
but slumber is only
a dream
and shadow talk
my only lull-a-bye.
 
Linda L. Creech, Bellefontaine, OH, USA
COMMENTS:  Wonderful phrasing throughout, but particularly in "solitide vacuums the room."  Another sleepless night described in a universal way, adding appeal to this poem.
============
Dreamcatcher

fresh spun web
single strand
winds its way around the hoop,
crossing itself
over and over

diamonds cascade
between hoop and
jeweled heart, clustered
feathers form a draped triangle
meant for magic, ward against
darker dreams

leather, string, wood, plastic
maybe the feathers are real
leather smells of newness
speaks of something older
alarm, allure, flight, fight
snared nightmares
block the light

Betty Dobson, Halifax, NS, CAN
COMMENTS:  Descriptive language clearly pictures the dreamcatcher, and explains its purpose.  The rhythmic marching cadence carries the reader to the end, asking, almost demanding that this poem be read aloud.
============
Slaying spiders

She came to me
my daughter
wild eyed and wide awake
whispering of scores of spiders
huddled on the ceiling
lying in wait only to
stream down toward
the bed on
cords of silk
sliding to a stop
just above her head

My own childhood nightmare
I'd never told her

Dreams entwined

Jennifer Galvin, Mountain View, CA, USA
COMMENTS:  The "reporter's" style of this well written poem allows the reader to "fill in" the feeling.  Excellent imagery, done in a clear direct style.
============
Red Dragons

He sent dragons
To ward and protect
I can't see them
Not even the press
Of foot or tail
In the grass

Welsh and wild
They circle the house
While the world weeps
I wonder if their fire
Mixes with the rain
To form steam

I struggle in sleep
Dreams twist and turn
Entangling me
In the morning
I remember nothing
Except a hint of red

Mary E. Gray, Newport News, VA, USA
POET'S NOTE:   The red dragon is a symbol of Wales.
COMMENTS:  This poet's imagination makes excellent use of metaphor, personification and hyperbole.  The combination of image, color, fantasy, and remembrance hints at a longer tale yet to be imagined.  This poem seems a re-telling of some mythological tale, yet also seems based in reality.
============
leave the dogwood in the forest

still-life form of fireflies
captured in on position
not intermittent apparition
frozen prose    inspired
poetry
unleashed beauty
from bark to bite-size
wonderment
floating     blossom
emoting     awesomely
soon to be flotsam
of spring     a dream
but
it can't be
a transplanted tree
I've tried

Avonne Griffin, Greer, SC, USA
COMMENTS: Alliterative sounds are repeated throughout this piece.  Pleasant images and internal rhyme come together as the elements fuse.
============
The Reflection Speaks | skaepS noitcelfeR ehT

I look out of the flat glass of my face,
the pane of my containment.

I move when you do when I move you do too.
Do I move you? I love it when I look into your eyes
and the pupils dilate at precisely the same time as mine,
near and far and near and far. See? Just like that.

When I speak to you, you move your lips like a mime,
did you know that? Repeat after me... No, try again.
Repeat after me... Stop it. Stop it! You know what

I'm thinking, I can see it in your face. You haven't
been sleeping well because of me. When you dream
you dream of me except it's me who is asleep
and then I dream of you and you are wide awake.

When I turn my head to look behind me
I am gone. Am I alone in here?

Maryann Hazen Stearns, Ellenville, NY, USA
COMMENTS:  One of the mysteries of the universe echoed in this piece.  Mirrors can lead one into another world, and this poet expresses that idea nicely.
============
Paradise Lost
 
From floor forty-four of a
silver tower, surrounded
by trappings of wealth and
power, to this dusty corner,
hot at this high noon hour.
 
Ten dollars more today,
buck by buck. With any luck,
enough for a rack at the
mission. Beats a box under
the bridge any day.
 
I'm trapped in a nightmare.
I can't scream. I'm completely aware -
 
and it isn't a dream.
 
John E. Rice, Houston, TX, USA
COMMENTS:  A protest poem that turns a finger on the reader.  This poem's protagonist does not find his nightmare in sleep, but in life.  How many are thus trapped in such circumstances, wanting a better life, yet unable to break free?  Written with understanding, the poem forces us to examine our own lives, and that examination may make us uncomfortable.
============
Sonnet With Two-Part Harmony

Bilateral Symmetry:
That’s what it’s all about.
Try putting one head in,
And shaking it about.

We each have two brains
It seems - one with more clout
Than the other,
At least in daylight hours.

But at night, in dreams,
That other self schemes,
Complains, tries to make things clear,
To resolve those problems in arrear.

Are you schizoid?  Well, yes;
Or one of us is, I must confess.

George Stateson, Grand Prairie, TX, USA
COMMENTS:  This poem creatively combines rhythm, meaning and tone.  Nice insertion of unexpected and unusual rhyme in the second verse brings new attention to what this poet has to say.
============
Reel-y True

Just hearing those bells and whistles sends
An obsessive message
Can you win? They seem to entice all
Kinked and twisted bodies as well as minds
Pull themselves up to the screens
Odds are some do win
Though most don't. That's
Why it's called gambling or gaming
In layman's terms
Not winning
Not taking it all home but
Every single person comes with the dream that those
Reels will stop on Jackpot

Claiborne S. Walsh, Montrose, AL, USA
COMMENTS:  Vivid images and easy conversational language help to build a clear speaker-to-reader communication.
============
Passion
 
Through those eyes
the ocean explodes
the breeze fills my soul
 
Lost in ecstasy
hand in hand
feet graze the sands
 
Forever in this dream
surreal surroundings
long for endless slumber
 
Yet he is true
as shall forever be
here in my arms
 
Mikaila Zeneth, Ridgeway, ON, CAN
COMMENTS:  Is this the story of a dream?  Or a dream of real life? The poet expresses feelings in a series of succinct stanzas that take full advantage of the dream-like quality of the chosen words.
============

Back to contents

FIRST PLACE - Winner of a $15.00 electronic book gift certificate.

Universal Understanding
 
Swirling currents of life and light
flow through arms embracing all
existence draped in a shrouded cloak
bespeckled in stars.
 
Brady Riddle, Galveston, TX, USA

Searchers
 
Copernicus
and Galileo
took the long look,
searching
for borders. Infinity is
impassive and gives
no clues.
Pasteur
looked through his
brass tube and stacked
lenses. He found a
Universe in a
drop of water -
the tear
of a fearsome god.
 
John E. Rice, Houston, TX, USA

Cosmos  Hour
 
Planets play
Don't yield to the gravity
 
Stars chat
Don't be confused by the attraction
Or fall into the blackhole
 
Indulge in all of the cosmos
I want to give you all of the moments of the cosmos
 
Midori Saito, Saitama, JPN

Part & Parcel of the Ultimate Chaos

Often my thoughts spawn suicidal melancholy
Deceiving me with whispered threats, while
Surges of malicious animosity towards myself swirl
Introspective in a room of insane silences
Then heard (or yet I'm part of) Universal Truths
Not words, these specter-shrouded images
Of me asleep in Death -- nor dead, this Death
Whose raveled ends of thoughts unravel what
Was me, rushing onward -- racing past Infinity
To where it is that Death's minds go, until at last
The Comets and Supernals mix with muck of
Minds Eternal.  Forward -- unwinding those
Complexities eyes never saw so simple, nor
Did minds know they knew -- yet in Death do:
Mind does not die … perpetual thoughts of You

SJ Baldock, Lancaster, TX, USA

Being Celestial

I do not want you to think of the universe
as you read this poem, or think this is a poem about
galaxies and stars and moons; it is not.
Do not think of the frozen darkness of space
or the way the sun reflects off the skin of the earth
to light one half of the moon's surface
bringing tears to the eyes of a small handful of men
who have journeyed far away from the spinning blue mass
they've come to call, home. This is not
a poem about other planets, solar systems,
nebulous oddities, or indescribable creatures,
and, above all else, you must not give them a thought.
You must think only of yourself as you read this;
the compact skin you live in, the internal mini-universe
that lives within that quasi-cosmos, which is your you.

Maryann Hazen Stearns, Ellenville, NY, USA

Ten vacationing friends at
Saturday night star party,
joyful expedition, a universe
expanding before our eyes.
Dark cold night, telescopes reveal
binary stars, the moons of Jupiter,
Saturn's blurry rings.
Phone call interrupts our viewing;
on this planet, a mother has died.

Kindness--private office offered,
coffee and water, long-distance calls,
arrangements, airplane reservations.
Circle of hands clasped in prayer,
universe contracts to one still room.

SuzAnne C. Cole, Houston, TX, USA
COMMENTS:  The title tells us where we are, and each line reveals more about who, what, where, and even when.  This is a universal tale, for most of us have a friend whose loved one has died; many of us have clasped hands in friendship and support.  There is kindness as well as love in the words of the reporter.  Well done, poet!
============
Beyond What I See

I wonder what lies beyond
Would it be as my mind envisions
The mysterious universe

Could I fathom what I see
Would my mind absorb the memories
To savor
After reality takes me away

I can taste the longing
The craving for the unknown, is there

Seeing, is only to dream
But an invigorating one

Daisy Autry Worrock, Abingdon, VA, USA
COMMENTS:  One of those universal questions we all ask is here, asked of self, and even asked of the reader.  Could anyone absorb the memories after reality has taken us away?
============
Lost King

Now
a little boy sits on the shag carpet,
wooden blocks strewn between
his outstretched legs.
Today
he is a builder,
creating and demolishing
his own universe
in a random circle.
Expansion is certain.
Soon
he will outgrow the world
created within these walls.

M. E. Wood, Belleville, ON, CAN
COMMENTS:  Today a builder, and tomorrow?  Interesting title in the context of this poem.  This poet comes to the point in a gentle, loving way.
===========

Back to contents

Universal Understanding
 
Swirling currents of life and light
flow through arms embracing all
existence draped in a shrouded cloak
bespeckled in stars.

Brady Riddle, Galveston, TX, USA

COMMENTS:  This poetic survey features a bit of alliteration, lovely assonant phrasing ("arms embracing all existence") and fine diction, and tells all with beautiful imagery.  So much is said in so few words, sweeping across all cosmic wonder.  Internal rhyme and alliteration in first line alone sets poetic tone, with a continued preponderance of liquids (L's and R's) throughout the stanza, giving this piece a most lovely flow.  Poetry at its best.
 

There is no immediate prize associated with a poem having been picked as Editor's Choice in a particular month, only the knowledge that our editors picked it over all the other prize winners of that month.  However, all poems chosen for EDITOR'S CHOICE of each month in the year 2003 will be automatically entered in the EDITOR'S CHOICE OF THE YEAR 2003 competition, voted on by Sol Magazine Members at the end of the year.

Questions?  E-mail Mary Margaret Carlisle, Managing Editor: Sol.Editor@prodigy.net
Please refer to this page for Sol Magazine questions & email contacts:
http://sol-magazine-projects.org/prodigy/sol.magazine/question.htm
 
 

ARE YOU AWARE?
 

---

Home