by Eleanore Lee A yellow mist floats along the rim of the far hill. In the dawning spring it sprang up by itself. We didn’t notice it happening. It just appeared. Up close the juicy little leaves look like clover, But they’re not. The sparkling blossoms small and brilliant. No…
Poetry Posts
Theories About Footprints
by Michael Sandler As I approached he stood haltingly, kyphotic and aged. Perhaps he saw my chest thrust, rodding my back as if to overcome the torque of my own crooking hinge, its rust and abrade. Over appetizers and wine, disquiet ran in background mode while routine smiles and talk…
For Waiting
by Mia Sara If you’re waiting for deliverance, better call UPS. If you’re waiting for UPS, look out for the green truck. If you’re bored of looking, try leaping off the edge. If you’re tired of the falling, better find a safety net. If you’re waiting for a safety net,…
Absinthe Tasted in Hums of Water
by Lana Bella The drinking girl is not dreaming because a dreamer drinks not from thirst but for the tongue craves. With the snug sphericity of a pearl, she meets the long, furious work of humming spree, boothed in stilt bar hugging stein-glassed hands, ropy on the final slogs. Tinny haze synapses into familiar water, waist…
Maxwell House Kills the Wicked Witch of the West
by Aline Pusecker Taylor Leaves swirl over ribboned bark grayed and grooved. Glint of flint! Blaze ablaze! The witch needs a fix a mix of hazelnut and cream a dream, caffeine Brew to shrew. Ding-dong, the witch is dead
Take Me to the River and Wash Me Down
by Lana Bella After Al Green’s “Take Me to the River” All the while the river rushed, so has everything else. Shivering through a late winter leave, I felt the paranoiac quiet traced down the folds of my bones wading beyond the water, gin memory pulled up by Xanax and opiates,…
Neurotic
by Aline Pusecker Taylor At night when I’m alone I ponder aneurisms blood clots and flesh eating bacteria how I like my legs and want to keep them attached to the rest of my body. Aspirin and Neosporin arm the coffee table weapons in an invisible war fought mostly in…
Ode to the Millennial
by Shana Chartier Entitled. Self Absorbed. Just so out of touch. We’ve been given participation trophies too much We text during interviews, we laze about daily Clearly our parents were too soft on their baby. We were told with confidence education is enough No one mentioned two years’ experience to…
Flying Northeast at Dusk
by Rodger Martin In the pressure of the fuselage, at this height I’ve become Jeopardy host pushing scripts for an audience no one sees. Science for one thousand. My portal turns microscope, its double panes a slide and the Earth out there, holy in its ghost of curve, demands comprehension….
Treasures
by Anne Eston I hold my head the way I held that robin’s egg when I was six. Unsafe in the nest Grandpa stole (he said it fell out of a tree), the egg sat. I took it, was careful… I couldn’t take care of it. Didn’t think it would…