Devon Balwit How like Banksy, God is, our hidden telomeres programmed to shred just when we become sure of our worth, our readiness for a climate- controlled museum cabinet, for an encomium- laden retrospective, gavel banging down on a million-four, our loved-ones gaping at our disintegration. Devon Balwit wouldn’t mind being the Banksy of verse.
Read MoreHowie Good The Colonel of the Dead after flexing his cramped fingers, records your name in black ink on black paper, then lies back with a weary sigh on a sun chair, pink high tops crossed at the ankles. Howie Good is on the pavement, thinking about the government.
Read MoreHowie Good October Trees I see them out my window, grinning, angelic, committed to the outrageous thing, to be alive in spaces that are designed to kill them. Howie Good is on the pavement, thinking about the government.
Read MoreSteve Klepetar A Meeting i Because times were bad, I think he came to comfort me on an October day filled with light. ii He had been gone so long into that silent world that his face was gray, his hands wrinkled and cold. iii He spoke softly, and his words rose like smoke in […]
Read MoreSteve Klepetar A Meeting, Part V A few birds twittered in the trees, the small pond glittered in the sun, and together we felt the earth as it stretched a little, yawning like someone who had been up late the night before. Steve Klepetar is enjoying October in the Berkshires, hanging with ghosts.
Read MoreSteve Klepetar A Meeting, Part IV He touched me on the shoulder, smiling sadly, while outside some young men gathered leaves into piles, loaded them into pickup trucks. Steve Klepetar is enjoying October in the Berkshires, hanging with ghosts.
Read MoreSteve Klepetar A Meeting, Part III He spoke softly, and his words rose like smoke in the clear air. Steve Klepetar is enjoying October in the Berkshires, hanging with ghosts.
Read MoreSteve Klepetar A Meeting, Part II He had been gone so long into that silent world that his face was gray, his hands wrinkled and cold. Steve Klepetar is enjoying October in the Berkshires, hanging with ghosts.
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