Day: May 21, 2019

Inarticulate by David Adès

I am trying, still, to touch something, something I cannot name, something that those of faith and bereft of doubt might call God — the inviolate kernel of epiphany — not so much to remove the grey between the black and white as to…

Living Inside Our Bodies by David Adès

Living inside our bodies we never know the extent of our reach, where the tiny seedpods of our smiles are blown, where they lodge, where they reside deep in memory, how long they endure emitting their silent love, how much they become beacon, they…

On the Shelf by David Adès

You turned the wheel — I spun around: but I was not clay to your hands, I did not shape to your image, my imperfections would not vanish. Now you have left me here, fired and glazed, hard and set.

Two Women, Two Paths by David Adès

1. One woman is holding on white-knuckled hard. She wears her grief buttoned up tight holding herself within it fearing her own disappearance fearing air on skin fearing the world beyond him. She takes it to her bed as talisman as substitute as protector…

Autumn Wind by Vincent Canizaro

time and an autumn wind unfurl the curtain lace in a silent kitchen I watch the cat; hunched, creeping slowly along the shelf a silent candle wavers shadow through the crystal time etching darkness on the wall

Spies by Frank H. Coons

Again the dream melds facets of real & unreal with colors of ochre and starfish-orange we are on a jagged beach bordered with dense trees maybe the Delaware Capes or Penobscot Bay & lighting a small stick fire & wearing animal skin coats waiting…

Because by Stephen Cramer

Because I’m a skeleton wearing a few inches of flesh & some jeans I’m going to rub my face on some wild columbine & learn how to live on rocky slopes, sing all the neighbors’ stares into my direction, suck on this rice like…

Blues in Blue by Stephen Cramer

Some days they shadow me like a badly dubbed film, lines lagging just behind the lips. Don’t talk to me about serenity. One guy ate an airplane piece by piece over two years, but he still couldn’t fly. Maybe the things I’ve believed in…

The Microphone Speaks by Stephen Cramer

The Microphone Speaks: So this is how it feels to be outdated: watching headsets couple with main acts every night while I haven’t had a date for months. Go ahead, call me the vestigial organ of the music industry. I am the myth of…

Remind me again how our love was ill-advised by Torie Amarie Dale

Remind me again how our love was ill-advised I swing from the branches of that forbidden tree. You rest your hands on your knees and bow your head low. In that valley of your own creation you ask God, and, of course, your Blessed…

Cute Aggression by Mark Danowsky

Eating baby carrots I try not to feel my teeth crushing fingers even though I’m sure this is not what it’s like to chew through bone I look at the dog but he’s not going to give me concrete answers They call it “cute…

Old Friend by Mark Danowsky

As it turns out We were not meant to live Similar lives Albeit growing Up together Then splitting As limb from trunk Pushes toward sunlight Breaking canopy Knowing nothing Except need

On Break by Mark Danowsky

Sitting between frozen dinners deodorant and pain relief a red umbrella blocks squares of skylight leaves only fluorescent gleam cast off scuffed polished floor flat black metal table shiny packaging all that lines each shelf waiting for you to consider if any of these…

Young Ways by Mark Danowsky

not just youth get over-excited draw others in their web where discovery is lauded as if innovation exists given we are most satisfied in small revelatory moments wet ivy glistening with dew fresh picked raspberries wearing sunglasses looking like your favorite self driving toward…

When “Goodbye” Isn’t Enough by Holly Day

My son tells me the world has gotten so small that even if he gets swallowed up by the trees in the Amazon by the heights of Nepal or Kilimanjaro by the noise of icebergs crashing somewhere past Alaska he will be able to…

Memory is a Moment by Richard Dinges Jr

framed in fog. A hollow echo in empty bones shifts between gray shadows. Sharp edges scrape bare skin exposed to cold wind under a bright clear sky. A sun blinds, feeds a single seed until it grows into a large tree. I can climb…

Mid-Winter Journey by Richard Dinges Jr

Sun melts low into horizon, paints a thin orange wash across hay field stubble, raises a roll of hills and farmsteads into still life framed within bare tree windbreaks where I pause in my journey to watch sunlight blend with land before sky lowers…

Rhythm of Nightfall by Richard Dinges Jr.

At day’s end, shadows draw pond water into sky’s dark, meld field stubble’s slow dissolve into grove’s trunks. I can only imagine star’s sparkle in my eyes that cannot see beyond this blur into night, so quiet I hear my breath, a whisper little…

Blood Moon by Robert Ferrier

Tonight I explode light with long lens. Focus between limbs. Balance moon atop a shadowy chimney. I feel small, insignificant in a universe of diamonds. I sling my dreams, trusting stars to illumine hearts light years away. Lunar cycles bookend lives: beginnings relationships endings….

America’s Prayer by Jenny Flower

Our children who are in heaven Forever we’ll remember Your names. When it comes to guns Whose will be done? Your blood Will not be forsaken. For parents, this day is filled with dread. Forgive us – we sent you to classes – as…

Avocado Salad by April Garcia

I stand in my kitchen as she stood in hers and carefully dice plump, red H-E-B tomatoes —their juices running across the wooden cutting board —cube creamy avocados, and chop crunchy, iceberg lettuce. In a bowl, I mash the cubes —sprinkle with garlic powder,…

Big Man by Julie Diane Gates

There you are on the floor of the bathroom passed out. I ran past the glistening blinking Christmas lights to the guest room where my mother was sleeping And young Caroline, zombified, in her transient coming of age to leaving the nest bare bedroom….

China Doll by Julie Diane Gates

A China doll isn’t Chinese. She’s made of China. Her makeup, painted in fine brush strokes Is permanent, but not tattooed. Her coif will forever remain set and breeze-resistant Because she does and does not live in a sheltered encased world. She’s impervious to…

Picasso by Julie Diane Gates

I’m in your blue period, Poppy. Take me back to Cancun where you can see all of me and spoil me. You didn’t finish what you started And it was unfair of you to leave me with your blue feet. We were supposed to…

Silver by Julie Diane Gates

You can’t find that half ounce of mercury Shrunken to the base of the priceless miniscule vial Buried at the center of the iceberg In the Antarctic. Hack away with your foolish man-made tools, drills, hatchets, and axes, If you must, But you’ll only…

Skiers Enrolled in Public Schools by Linda Imbler

The littles one stand quietly, gather them, all the little ones, herd them up high on the mountain, sheep and goats, herd them up to the top, hurry, hurry because the race must begin. Hurry, hurry up the mountain. They must march with longer…

Alexander’s Elegy by Laura Johnson

plump blueberries sifted through moist fingers as i searched for stems. all your life i did this a small discard pile on the side to present you with a glistening bowl of fruit. being yours and your being mine meant picking through the stems….

Masterbaters by Paul Juhasz

Grandma, scowling, referred to it as “that nasty habit of yours,” filling my chalice and my stoup with all the guilt she forgot. Dad would usually just smirk and ask what I was doing in there for so long; Mom would wrinkle her nose…

The Hare Licks His Wounds by Paul Juhasz

What no one understands, baby doll, is that I threw that first match. Do you really think I’d lose to a goddamn turtle? Fuck no, I threw that motherfucker! Why? Gotta generate interest. Build the excitement, baby. I mean, c’mon. Who was paying attention…

saprotrophic nutrition by Alexander M. Koch

the velvet porous brown underside of Phellinus igniarius topped by a hard, black surface with fissures that cross creating lines of direction a topography of layered crust I follow the contours tracing them with sandpaper fingers back to the bark of the tree where…

The Dream by Kristina Krumova

I dreamed that your skin was transparent and through it I was able to see the air in your lungs the liquor in the liver and myself inside the blood

The old man in the cage by Sean Lause

It is Sunday. The old man in the cage is wheeled through the town again. His lips tremble with violations. There must have been a time when he was young. He signatures the air with words they cannot decipher. He is no one. Though…

The others by Sean Lause

A cat approached me with a note on her paw that read “cat.” This was sound advice, made more sense than my “philosophy.” Yet still I craved for more. So dragonfly came: “I knit past to present faster than the mind can compute.” Spider…

The Forgotten Side by Boniface Mangena

The sound of cheer warms the heart with want Glory so dreamy and hypnotic like an enchantress portion In tickles of applause wash my brain with ambition And delude myself absent thought of the blood spent A kiss of grandeur is a blindfold on…

I Won’t Say The Name by Christopher McCarthy

My friend’s rapist three-day dry gluestick I won’t say the name retracting back into himself revolting, captor. The other two that came with him lost erections and eventually they let her go. I remember the pillowed box They put Joanie in after she died….

Once by Christopher McCarthy

Once, as a child, I was playing hide and seek at our house in the city. Sardine in a hole, hiding ontop of Diana, and Mark starts singing ‘If you’re happy and you know it, wash your hands!’ I burst. Out. Laughed. Peed myself….

Cute Hoors by Jean McLarney

In the dream I’m partying with Ivan Stefanovich. This would never happen in real life. Ivan has always been nice to me, but he’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing: he molested his cousin when he was twelve. We’re hours there. The hostess is not…

Almost Old by Fabrice Poussin

It was another day in the mid forties she sat by the hearth in crackling odes bones chilled in a certain darkness. The cup steamed of a promising savor gently in a deepening aloneness patiently she waited for the instant. A spark came to…

This Alzheimer’s Morning by Steven M. Smith

When she woke, she asked me who I was. So once again I told her I am her morning—and more. Then I asked her after breakfast to paint a poem— just a little poem to be brushed on a canvas of dawn that can…

How Long & How? by Jeffrey Taylor

I can be compassionate for someone without wanting them to be president. I can want them gone from that position without pulling the trigger myself. I can want them gone and want the path to that end be right. There will be unhappiness when…

Immigrants by Jeffrey Taylor

The fish and chips on the table are an idea imported from England. The English had to wait for potatoes to emigrate from Peru, put down roots, acclimatize, settle in, assimilate. Tikka masala arrived later, a bank shot emigre from India, via England. But…

Settlers by Jeffrey Taylor

The red oaks are still robed in their green and red glory as we approach Christmas. The hackberry stands quiet in its winter bareness. I do not know the tree with tiny leaves that remain green all winter. Here on the edge of the…

At the Canberra Museum’s Roman Exhibition by Valerie Volk

Among the lofty statues – gods, consuls, empresses – who loom above the marveling crowds, glass cases show the treasures of daily life in ancient Rome. Here I find my entry to their bustling city life. A tiny object, centimeters long, a block of…

Rowan by Michele Waering

Do not bury witches beneath me my roots are neither iron nor water Rather watch for my seedlings set them in a circle around you Let my blossoms bring hope to you unfurling after uncertain winters Come late summer orange berries precise blackbirds forage…

A Little Coffee by Jack Weitzman

There’s more plastic trash in the ocean now Than sea anemones and starfish, and the otters are belly up with intestines jammed with plastic bags. At Starbucks I snap on the plastic lid and head to the office with my morning coffee. I don’t…