George Burns Sometimes during the day, I close my eyes and I can feel last night’s dream, or a piece of it, still flowing along like an underground stream flickers of mica and shadows of fish quick to hide. George Burns is a long time poet, published in Right Hand Pointing and author of If […]
Read MoreBen Sloan Sumatra Dark Roast Trying to figure out what it is I’m thinking today, I eventually just give up and decide to let it all go— and when I do, I see the day sitting out there all around me like a bunch of crows on a power line, hunched over, each one’s back […]
Read MoreJerry Krajnak Hope My final tomato vine froze last night after it waged quite a fight, surviving a long season of drought, then too much rain, fusarium wilt, powdery mildew, stinkbugs, aphids, fruitworms, frass, and, yes, neglect, its final fruit, picked green and hard, asleep in newsprint under my bed, waiting for a winter day […]
Read MoreAma Bolton Un Autre Fois Dans un autre bois un autre soir on vient voir les feux de l’automne et la pluie pointilliste la pluie qui lave les feuilles vermoulues sur lesquelles sont écrits les quatre vingt dix neuf prénoms du dieu. Another Time In another wood another evening we come to see autumn fires […]
Read MoreJudy Kronenfeld Together You share my room three nights in the surgical ward, sleeping awkwardly on a foldout chair, as I doze in my opiate-quieted bed— the soothing arm’s reach between us all the sweetness we can know. Judy Kronenfeld‘s fifth full-length book of poetry, Groaning and Singing, was published by FutureCycle Press in February, […]
Read MoreSteve Klepetar Gracious In the end they were gracious, though I spoke too long of the Minoans, where they came from, their palaces and kings. Having once embarrassed himself mightily, Steve Klepetar always tries to wear matching socks.
Read MoreF.J. Bergmann Again and Again You get excited about the seasons as if they had never happened before and while I will agree that each change in any of a myriad molecular arrays in every universe is of necessity unique I wouldn’t presume to rank them by effect on arbitrary senses even though that maple […]
Read MoreCorey Mesler On the Way to the Old Forest Listening to gospel on the Wynne station— Johnny Cash signing “In the Garden”– on the way to The Old Forest, where we saw, amid the leafrot and lichen and sunstruck canopy, a handsome snake, which slipped across the path, startling us, reminding us that the world, […]
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