Steve Klepetar Excuse Me But one thing you’ll never hear from a cat is ‘Excuse me.’ Nor Einstein’s famous theorem. Jane Hirshfield No, but if it could move at something approaching the speed of light, you might see a red glow in August, or green as it fell to the bottom of some extraterrestrial sea, […]
Read MoreElizabeth Gauffreau On First Hearing Odetta I heard Odetta sing today, A pipe organ in a chapel On a Georgia country road. Elizabeth Gauffreau writes poetry by ear in Nottingham, New Hampshire. You can find her at http://lizgauffreau.com.
Read MoreAshley Jones Inbox I check my email while I’m walking like the waiting coupon holds urgency or the calendar invite is an emergency and sometimes I forget the trees and I wonder after all this time how the trees will remember me. Ashley Jones likes to bend down and smell the flowers.
Read MoreKeith Polette At Sea Lying on the sea floor, able to breathe water, I look up and see the moon sailing over me, a few sailors leaning over its taffrail, gazing downward, their eyes bright as stars, and I wonder whether I should ever need to rise from this silent world so dimly lit from […]
Read MoreKeith Polette Hands Last night, by hearth’s faint light, I noticed that her small hands, worn from work, weathered with age, and wise in the ways of making and mending, were folded like wings on her lap, ready to take flight into a vast space that she kept to herself. Keith Polette has returned to […]
Read MoreBetsy Mars The Well I walked in the jaundice glow of the strung-out streetlights, dove into the ink – pool of the endless night. Betsy Mars is sometimes visited by poetry in her dreams when the monsters retreat to the closet.
Read MoreDianne Moritz Once darts of glass stung the kitchen floor, while you watched, holding yourself, silent. Dianne Moritz writes poetry for children and adults, to entertain and sort out difficult feelings.
Read MoreSteve Klepetar In Gratitude “thank you for showing me the morning stars and for the dogs who are guiding me” -W.S. Merwin Thank you for these tired eyes, and for the joy of sleep on a sweet bed, shared for oranges and grapes, for all the sharp flavors of spices and wine for the air […]
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