by Russell Rowland Sketchy is the restroomin this ramshackle arcade—almosta closet, dark—still, she has to go.Granddaughter, eight, insistsGrampy accompany her. I do— softened at her own wayof being those years young, her faiththat an elder man, retired,unremarkable, divorced, can causethe world to seem a safer place. Once we’re both inside,…
by Ray Corvi The funeral parlor opened its front doorOut flew a dandelion’s wind-borne seeds Mourn the way the trees have thrownLimbs branching skyward into leaves
by Ray Corvi It begins with a lapsus I climb out of the windowinto the boughs of trees become a bird& fly away and find myselfgrafted to the day * the window: open it–– I shall leap and soar I can whistle any tune the songs they o-pen as windows or…