by Laura Schulkind I. My father could translate anything into Morse code. As a child, I never considered why. It is what fathers did. And I would demand translation of the ridiculous— Milk the fat cow. Cock-a-doodle-doo. Anything to make him laugh, easy in himself. That is what daughters did….
Poetry Posts
Ozymandias Revisited
by Laura Schulkind Two towns in the California desert, settled by those who settle deserts. Those with nothing left to lose. Those with everything to lose. Squeezing hope from stone. Digging, digging to the source of dreams. In one, growers imagined palm fronds whispering at night. Traveled to Arabia for…
Mettle
by Marilyn Ringer It is the season of races where only one can rise and claim the gold while a world of others must accept no less than heartbreak. Who will remember the woman, pulled up lame, her years of preparation spent on one false step, the look on her…
Westland House
By Alison Hicks From the glass door in my father’s room we watched the acorn woodpecker hopping up and down the trunk of the pine. Anne had brought birdseed, stored it behind the door. We admired him. I was nervous about the visit, afraid of Anne. I didn’t know…
The Beginning
by Josh Medsker (A note on the text: This text was taken from Adolf Hitler’s notorious book, “Mein Kampf.” This poem and the others in the series are all found poems. The words do not belong to me, but their current order is my own. –JM) FROM—LOVE POEMS I FOUND…
Hermits of Bethlehem
HERMITS OF BETHLEHEM Chester, New Jersey Beyond the threshold is silence. Stillness suffuses like light. The world outside is spinning. Summer flames at its height. Solitude is a boon companion. Self-knowledge climbs like a sloth. The bed is spare, a thin beard. The rocking chair is a moth. Dig in…
You Are My Brother
by Gonzalinho da Costa I saw you dirty, sleeping in the street, Your dry hide, carbon smudged ancient pottery, Your fingernails, black as oil pooling in the driveway, Your hair spiked like hawk feathers clumped by doormat mud. I mistook you for an asphalt ball Tumbling out of a truck,…
Basket Mess
by Christy Bailes I fell through the mirror into a basket of rubber arms, as if lovers had become repeated doll limbs, reaching for me at every angle. I twisted my body to catch one, then another, but their fingers bent to forearms in darkness that stretched so loud, I…
At the Mica Mine: Grafton, New Hampshire
by Jessica Purdy With our husbands, we climb the mine’s walls, to a ledge where moss beds dressed with red flowers cloak the blooming mica, thin glassy sheaves of black and silver, delicate petals, stiff as metal. Our ascent leaves trails of pulverized rock. Mica dust spirited on the air…
Down-going River Song
by Naomi Ruth Lowinsky Red River sing us a drinking song Summer’s spell broken Sing of the way we used to be When we swam in each other Swam in you Before Drought exhausted the garden Before Fate rode in On a Night Mare Breath labors Blood stammers Bone…