by Gary Beck Another summer to a troubled land that disinherits many while the few revel, supported by servants bound to their masters by economic need rather than fondness for indulgent ways, capricious extravagance as many go hungry, their highest aspiration a service job…
By Pamela Hammond A honey haze spreads over a hill where ravines invite dreams in blue shadows. Worries melt away in twilight like fire losing its flame to a curl of smoke. Tall trees link together— a grove. I find comfort watching the shift of light. And tonight, rustling bird…
by Stephanie Zingeler Caroline suckled a nicotine baby every hour or two, dressed in camel UGGS, seen on nipple-pinching cold days, eyes squinting to thin almonds as she inhaled mouth wrinkled around the cigarette’s lean physique, hip thrust out to support the weight of her logoed Louis Vuitton bag balanced…
by Judith Grissmer It is the last night before seasonal renters arrive. Sun casts crimson on windows settles behind black pine. As I sit on our beach-house steps, the small colony of feral cats that live here year-round lie on the driveway at my feet. They have kept me company…
by donnarkevic Each Holy Week, babas, place orders with Ted, the mailman, for ducks to make Czarnina, soup from the blood. Ted reconnoitered behind enemy lines, his knife slitting throats of Nazis, wounds squirting blood, death draggling a green uniform to the pallor of red clay. In Pittsburgh’s strip district,…
by J.P. Colby on these bright days of milk and violet light causes life to flash through thoughts like chalk spread hard, sprawled on pavement. overhead a man hangs paintings in a house of white. daisies litter his mound of clay. He builds a house of clay. He perfumes his…
by Laura Senff Inspiration approaches in many forms A ray of sunshine or a sliver of moonlight Watching campfire flames ignite The wind blowing in the trees or waves hitting the shore Or even watching winged beasts soar Inspiration in sundry situations transforms Maybe it is a speech on television…
by J.P. Colby Looking ahead all I can see are dark shapes; suggestions as to what may lay in wait. But I am not scared; if ever I can’t sleep because of the dark monsters lurking ahead, I can look behind me, or directly down at myself as a reminder…
by Laura Schulkind August nights we seek dark meadows to lie entwined, light show above us. Still surprised each time by the hush of these fireworks arcing across sky. Think not of their fire but ours on this earthy bed hurtling us through space. August finds us here beneath rain…
by Lois Hard She’s not afraid to be alone or to keep her tether short. Safety is the issue here– an impenetrable wall that wraps around her fortress. No biting bullets, no clawing blades of insults not meant for her ears. But she does hear, and the concrete window slams…