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	<title>Two Hawks Quarterly &#187; love</title>
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	<description>A Literary Uprising</description>
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		<title>Wallace Stevens Joins the Justice League by Ed Frankel</title>
		<link>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2009/08/28/wallace-stevens-joins-the-justice-league-by-ed-frankel/</link>
		<comments>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2009/08/28/wallace-stevens-joins-the-justice-league-by-ed-frankel/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 28 Aug 2009 17:16:21 +0000</pubDate>
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				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[ancient Greeks]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Justice League]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[love]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Wallace Stevens]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Wonder Woman]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://twohawksquarterly.com/?p=3109</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Wallace Stevens Joins the Justice League For William Moulton Marston I always wanted to be a member of the Justice League, crusading for the idea of supreme order in a complacent world, even if I had to be one of those “who serve who also stand and wait,” like Lothar, Mandrake The Magician’s companion, or Alfred the Butler, in Batman’s cave. I always wanted to make love to Wonder Woman. She would come home after a hard day, peel off those high, red, boots, those starry shorts and change. I wouldn’t mind being the house-husband if she would leave her wonder-bracelets on. I would give up my position at Hartford Life, if I could write poems like these all day long. At night she’d slip off her bracelets and tell me everything she’d done that day and I’d get to hear stories you wouldn’t believe, about the arch-villains&#8211; the Cheetah, Angle Man, the Silver Swan, her paper sweetheart, the pilot, Steve, foiling Baroness von Guenther and the Nazis, in the DC comic books, in the war years of nineteen forty three. On weekends in my pied de terre in the city she cooks casseroles of extinct and obsolescent grains, souvlakis, [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Language of L by Chrys Tobey</title>
		<link>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2008/12/04/language-of-l-by-chrys-tobey/</link>
		<comments>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2008/12/04/language-of-l-by-chrys-tobey/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 04 Dec 2008 17:34:59 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>AULA Editor</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Antioch University Los Angeles]]></category>
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		<category><![CDATA[lithium]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[love]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Two Hawks Quarterly]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[Our love is the night sky – the way it looks like cotton stretched over a bruise. L stands for the lithium stars you pointed to as we sat on sand in Kawai. We used to laugh like all of Spain’s church bells going off at once. Two lowercase l’s standing side by side, I do. How luminous were we next to the sun that day? Your lips &#8211; cushions I rested my index finger on… Shhhh…. Please, I once liked you. L is the New York Stock Exchange ticker symbol you looked at each day the way a little boy looks at his mother. L is the abbreviation for a famous botanist. When we met you wanted to be a botanist. Now you’re a lawyer. We are two upside down capital L’s reaching away from each other. L stands for the length of a line – perhaps the line you turned left on, and then, like rain clouds rolling in, came the lies. &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8211; About the Author Chrys Tobey was born and raised in Cleveland. She left Cleveland when she was nineteen and settled in amongst the planted palm trees in Southern California. After graduating from Antioch University’s M.F.A. [...]]]></description>
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		<title>ORBIT by Melissa Mason</title>
		<link>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2008/08/22/orbit-by-melissa-mason/</link>
		<comments>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2008/08/22/orbit-by-melissa-mason/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 21 Aug 2008 17:00:52 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>AULA Editor</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Alcatraz]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Antioch]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Antioch University]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Antioch University Literary Magazine]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Anton Chekhov]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[bars]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[blackout]]></category>
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		<category><![CDATA[boston]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[drinking]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[dude]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[inferno]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[kiss]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Labor Day]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[lips]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[love]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[midwest]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[missed connections]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[San Francisco]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[spaulding]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[trance]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Two Hawks]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Two Hawks Literary Journal]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Two Hawks Quarterly]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[vacuum]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[whiskey]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[And it seemed that, just a little more—and the solution would be found, and then a new, beautiful life would begin; and it was clear to both of them that the end was still far off, and that the most complicated and difficult part was just beginning. Anton Chekhov The Lady with the Little Dog “What are you looking at?” Her eyes were off across the room, focused on something stationary that was, or maybe wasn’t, there. “Why haven’t you ever kissed me?” She blurted it out fast, as if it was a shocking question she had worked herself up to. “I don’t know. I’m scared.” “Why are you scared?” “Because I care about you, and I don’t want to ruin things. I’m scared because the last woman I really cared about and kissed eventually stopped kissing me back. I’m scared because I don’t want to miss you more than I already do.” He took a sip of his wine and wiped his thumb up and down against the stem of the glass. “Do you want me to keep going?” “No, no. I get it. You have reasons.” “Good reasons.” “Yes, good reasons.” She leaned over and undid the straps [...]]]></description>
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