by Emily Strauss Fremont Cottonwoods (Populus fremontii) In a high wind their branches crack together like the bones of a skeleton marching by day near the river deep within the red stone maze the leaves shaking like nervous hands fluttering at the window, sick with worry that the men will…
by Jean Howard New Year Though all day the sky laid its lid, heavy clay sealing the horizon, Gray fell with thickness on hills, ran its muck through the scrub oak. Hours clogged into prints made in snow, once brilliant and dazzling with promise. With the heavy hand a sculptor…
THE INFOMERCIAL HOURS I flip from station to station of promises for cures to what spins around in my after-midnight mind. For only three payments of $29.99, I can lose weight, tighten muscles, peel back years like Joan Lunden. Only seven minutes left to sign up for a seminar on…
by Robert Novick Hummingbird Over the calla lilies Midday cloud shadows raced. The hummingbird darted and stalled. Suspended Among the inverted violet bells. Upon his throat, an iridescent ruby gorget Nestled within the thick green Of his feathers. Through the rustling foliage He dove and emerged On the other side,…
by Shannon Blameuser Take me over. Possess me. I’ll let you. I’m lost in what I thought I was, Missing what I once had, To have it would enthrall. Your eyes hypnotize all my senses, And I’m yours, faithfully. The once clandestine flutter of my heart becomes erratic, I feel…
by Cynthia Roby Faltered Footwear Deflated and dusty soles, desert-dry tongue, aglets in a state of postmortem rigidity, eyelets ringed in jaundice-yellow. Our walks, our past, now in permanent cessation. The miles we traveled, the combing through, the crushing of, autumn leaves. From beneath the table you spied me sway,…
by Ann Marie Wilson-Crockett begins, my legs leaving the warm cocoon of my comforter leading my drowsy feet to the floor. Opening the bedroom door, cats greet my waking, anticipating the clang of the spoon against the tin announcing their tuna and chicken delight Walking upstairs I start calling names the…
by J.L. Amos Disposable Life That lipstick smeared Dixie cup you drank from once. Those roses – snipped at the bud and pinned to your lapel. The paper veil, merely napkins in the wind, animated by the door slam of your departure. Cellophane kisses, smothered by their very nature, simply…
Adaptation now that you have come and gone, the gospel of your days remains, no longer lightning, thunder in my sky but simple now, soft, the sound of autumn in the trees, fog against the brittle edge of leaf ___________________________________________________ Ambient Brian Eno’s “1/2” notes that talk to planets passing…
by Christy Bailes With an ear tag, a chest hole, and six knives in my throat, eyes balloon in love-hate rain, falling so violently I can’t see the C-5 fly past as slow as her last smile, although I hear the plane, drumming a military farewell with such force her…