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The Fiddlehead
Atlantic Canada's International Literary Journal
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Elizabeth Whealy
He and She
She is quietly becoming nothing
Spring is When Winds
Spring is when winds
Indian Summer
So many Autumns ignite in each gold leaf.
Tall Trees
Tall trees overwhelmed with branches
This Pressing Night
This pressing night holds
The Tidal Edge
The tidal edge
In the Shadows
The fingers of your mind
Ambition
I am content
The Abyss
From sea to sea
Logic's Fingers
No willow pollen
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Current Issue:
No. 301