Featured Writing

dock out to the sea

The Walk

By Gil Hoy I remember summer mornings before anyone else was awake  Opening the silver side screen door  dark grass, soft carpet under bare feet  the already sultry sun and moist salty air  Walking out onto a wooden dock  with rusty nails, old varnish  and a weathered bait bucket attached by a coiled brown rope  that was fraying like a…

read more...

Poetry Posts

dock out to the sea

The Walk

By Gil Hoy I remember summer mornings before anyone else was awake  Opening the silver side screen door  dark grass, soft carpet under bare feet  the already sultry sun and moist salty air  Walking out onto a wooden dock  with rusty nails, old varnish  and a weathered bait bucket attached by a coiled brown rope  that was fraying like a…

read more...

fire

Burning The Cane-Fields

By John Grey The job’s not done yet.The fields must be burnt clear. No patting sweaty backsas the last truck rolls down the roadway.Harvest is not the end. So, in the last of sun,the wicks are lit.The sky glows sparkling grayas flame moves inon slithering snakes, scurrying rats,crackling stalks and…

read more...

Fall Leaves

Grandfather

By Gwendolyn Jensen Some say that fall is death                       or death imagined.And it is true that color                       announces both,Whether painted on                       the leaf or skin,Whether red or gold                       or pale clay. Grandfather’s picture was painted                       in his autumnGarden, in his dark green                       garden chair,The leg rest up, his legs                       stretched out to whereThe rotogravure is spread                       all around…

read more...

swings

Nostalgia

By Caitlin Eha I drove to the park todayThe old one just down the roadFrom the house where I’ve always livedOne step out of my car becameA step back through time. I wandered the old pathsWhile children raced past meScrambling up the slides in wild abandonSearching for the monkey bars…

read more...

A shooting star over a city

I Live on Your Horizon

by Helena Fools I live on his horizon, roughly75.5 miles from eastern Madisonto my Milwaukee locationnow that he’s bought the highestpowered binoculars on the marketthere are times when he could bewatching me had those expensivelenses been pointed in the rightdirection instead of witnessingconstellations’ perpetuallypummelling down innocent,independently falling stars he tends…

read more...

A snow plow at night.

Midnight Garage

by Beth Bayley The snowplow in summer is a tragic thing,unable to fulfill its purpose,unhooked from the truck and left to rust and dustand maybe shelter some mice.In the winter, its gimlet eye and yawing jaw save the day,the sound of it scraping a driveway super-heroic.But in the summer, it’s…

read more...

galaxy

How They Resurrected Pluto

By Scott Beebe he was taken in 1930then subjected to theminds & subsequent proddingof scientists & philosopherswho spent much of the 20thcentury turningearthlings intobelievers he hadbelonged with them now he’s troubled& bumbles alone“it’s so dark & cold” hecries, no matteringthe hour or time of day –ironically, a thing thosepeople on…

read more...

Rumi’s Ballet

By Matthew Bartlett Like a graceful Baisemain, anEntrechat of Bejamin’s frolicsomeHands that soften her to dance;Their eyes; white angel flamingStars praise to this God his glory,Their fiery Althaea eyes weaningInto their gowns, and spin like a streaming‘pas de bourree couru’. Such poetryTo be spread in secret,Unaware your feet are gleaning…

read more...

dawn

Lakshmi

By Matthew Bartlett in the fresh andante of the dawnher body is primrose.more pleasure to feed uponthan touch this one i love so much. my kitten is purringas he watches us stirringin the nocturnal down-linen of our warmth. but it is she who sleeps,     while I am clandestine,eyes full-wide wearing…

read more...