Welcome to lo-ball.org. We are currently working on issue number four. Here is a poem by Austin Smith, which we feel captures the essence of lo-ball:
ADVICE WHISPERED TO EDGAR ALLAN POE AS HE SITS DOWN TO GAMBLE
These men are already dead.
Don’t you see how their hands
are trees incapable of leafing out?
Leave. You’ll lose. These men
are ghosts: they can see
what cards you’re holding. See
how their money is yellow,
curled and brittle like pictures
of naked girls in a smoker’s house?
You can’t win, I tell you.
Drop the leaves of your cards.
You must be the autumn.
