by Yuan Changming With their most tender touches, snowflakes Have painted the whole night white, Including the darkest corner in sight Even within a forgotten dream Except the plum tree, standing alone there Under the eastern sky, whose Flowers are blooming boldly against The entire season, more vibrant than blood
by Rose Mary Boehm 1 The first time I met death I didn’t crumble under its weight. I was very young but recognized that something important had changed. I hadn’t known her that well, but she had been kind, and I would miss her once I understood. 2 They knocked with a big knock. I almost…
by James Sennett chair was not Bonnie’s. How could it be? None of the telltale slouching evident in the faded cushions made of crushed flowers of indiscriminate species. Fitting just so for the visitor to lounge for a bit before taking the money of the neighbor you hated for stealing your recipe of some pie or other. Like it mattered anyway.
by John Grey you speak in lakes and dead mothers the universe nests like water in your head for a swimmer like you there’s no such thing as drowning just prayers for anything floating on the surface of the years gone by the mercy that’s the reason you have eyes meanwhile all you offer me is a shoreline a rock soft sand to run…
by Rose Mary Boehm Plankter, a word that’s hardly ever used. You’ll never find just one. Plankter. Any organism living in the water column, says Wikipedia, and incapable of swimming against a current is a plankter. Plankton. Food supply for fish and whales. Even sharks like them as appetizers. In the Big-Bang scheme of things, a human must appear…
Pulkita Anand We stop deceiving through language With names and meanings With sounds and spellings With dangling sentences and silent letters With words piling on words With the mob of vandalised words growing With defunct adjectives and rudimentary words With clichéd idioms and repetitive slogans With many languages buried and…
by Menke Hudzinski-Biewenga Innocence is tending to dust bunnies raising them under the bed; watching them hop refusing to eat your veggies just so you can feed them It is painting a rainbow on the wall for Mommy; a big happy grin proud of your work—unaware you’ll sleep without dinner It is believing daddy is gone on…
by Rose Mary Boehm I know I have to do some shedding. Can’t go into a long, enfeebling winter with the weight of oceans, moors, beaches, dark woods, and stark horizons. I suppose I ought to shed my lightweight roots and put down the other kind, sturdy and reliable, holding a tree that tries to rise…
by Alex Stolis When I was sixteen, Dad almost sold the bar, I crushed on the buyer’s daughter: nineteen, blond, and way out of my league. I was gone-daddy-gone. She asked if I knew where we could score some kickin’ weed, and I made a joint appear from the inside pocket of my field…
by Walker Watson You are the sun all flowers seek, Their aching stems bent toward your light— While I, unseen, stay small and weak, A shadow fading out of sight. You cradle beauty none can claim, And never turned to meet my gaze. My love, a ghost that whispers name, Haunts hollow rooms and wasted days. You cradle…