AS OF NOW – By Jim Hanlen
AS OF NOWPoems by Jim Hanlen
As of Now
I've just gotten used to wherethe creek and stone belong.They found their place a long time ago.
SOME LIVING STRUCTURE IN THE UNDERLYING THOUGHT
SOME LIVING STRUCTURE IN THE UNDERLYING THOUGHTBy Carol Frith
Lepidopteron
A mourning cloak butterfly flashing winter maroonemerges from the creek willows,
its dark...
LOVE IN A WAR TIME – By Jeton Kelmendi
LOVE IN A WAR TIMEBy Jeton Kelmendi
Love in a War Time
Sometime I want them to happenThese thingsDifferentlyFor example, a heavy fog fell in me,Until...
THANKSGIVING – By Obi Nwakanma
THANKSGIVINGBy Obi Nwakanma
Thanksgiving
It is the seventh month, and theUvene fruits are ripe again -The wild berries, plump with juice;The breadfruit, and the gourds are...
SIMPLE PLEASURES ELUDE ME LIKE FIREFLIES
SIMPLE PLEASURES ELUDE ME LIKE FIREFLIESBy Shirley Jones-Luke
Simple Pleasures Elude Me like Fireflies
Joy flits away in the moonlight,solitude is the crystal tears of starsdropping...
TOURNÉE DU CHAT NOIR – By Susan Cossette
TOURNÉE DU CHAT NOIRBy Susan Cossette
Tournée du Chat Noir
It is a suitable night for lost souls.The Swiss Guard, clad head to toe in goldLead...
LULLABY ON WEST 133rd – By Laurel Kaye
LULLABY ON WEST 133rdBy Laurel Kaye
Lullaby on West 133rd
The plane collides and you arriveto murmurs of hyphenated welcomein the halls of terminal 4There was...
TIMES – By Anwer Ghani
LITERARY CONTESTSFICTIONNONFICTIONPOETRYHAPPENINGSBOOK REVIEWSINTERVIEWSNEW TITLESART & PHOTOGRAPHYADELAIDE Independent Quarterly Literary Magazine / Revista Literária Independente Trimestral, New York / Lisboa, Online Edition TIMESBy Anwer Ghani The SunsetMy hand is so hot like the soul of the...
CAPRICCIO – By Maureen Eppstein
CAPRICCIOBy Maureen Eppstein Capricciofor no reasonIl capro, the goat on the hillsudden, unpredictable change, as of one's mindhip-hobble, hip-hobblesomersaultscartwheelssunlight on white daisieson the verge of a city street, a dusty sunflowera garden planted...
R + N 4EVER – By Elliot Greiner
R+N 4EVERBy Elliot Greiner
R + N 4ever
Their initials are scoopedinto the curb of thegrocery’s parking lot,the remains of a promisecollecting age,the glances of passerby.