by John Grey Is it just me or are the summers growing shorter, the winters longer? Have I become nothing more than an inveterate weatherman, disbelieving what the television, newspaper says, believing only . in the forecasts of my flesh, my bones? And I’m being loved shorter, unappreciated longer. And…
by Jonel Abellanosa Time now passes as palomino in summer, In the rainy season roan, always entire, Never jade, balky not just at midlife, Eye-catching musculature between Crupper and hock, withers and pastern, Strength difficult to hamshackle. Decades ago, the tartanilla lumbered, Papa beside me, paying the old man To…
by John Grey Raccoons stare at their reflection in the clear edge of the pond. “Wow we really do look like bandits.” Deer find an old water-logged paperback of Felix Salten’s “Bambi,” lick through its pages, never until then knew how capable they were of sorrow, despair and redemption. Thanks…
by Ali Znaidi Prologue Aroma of honeysuckle. —Dust particles falling through her hair. Scene Snowflakes were falling on the street. —Sappho was in her balcony experimenting w/ throwing jasmine in all directions. Epilogue A thick fog appeared. —A halo of Sapphic scents covered all the city.
by Ag Synclair let those broken things the old and discarded enjoy quiet sleep let them lie, still under an orange night split by trees where the hounds of winter bark mournful, low in this place where they left us among the slightest of bones
by Christy Bailes Inspiration has black eyes that cut colors, floating in aged wisdom so ripe others misunderstand dark for evil, when it is light, missing enormous heart pouring warm knowledge so silently, so slowly, so perfectly that only once she has gone, can I see what she left in…
by Jonel Abellanosa Beethoven knew my life Would take this turn and slow, Seeing me leaning for hours Watching window panes turn White from yellow, then gray, Listening again and again To how he emptied the music Of its vast and endless longings. He waited for night’s sacramental Wafer to…
by Gil Hoy from Afghanistan and Iraq, heroes against German and Japanese imperialism, and the sacrificed souls in “the war to end all wars.” But also thank Custer’s soldiers for not completing the genocide. I went to bed and dreamt that Sitting Bull saw Hiroshima and Nagasaki in a vision…
With thanks to Wallace Stevens by Wallace-Ruby Morales Among our decades together The only moving thing Is the distance between you and me You and I are of three minds That exit sign Shakes the foil. Raises thunder in the distance. Our distance tastes of the spray of the sea…
by Don G. Morgan I see the grandeur of the snow covered winter trees, and the lake. A cloud dark sky, the moon, the center of a filigree of light gleaming in the snow, reflected on the lake’s white frost. And above that a cathedral of towering pillars, mushrooms…