MY FATHER’S DOG TAGS – By Billy Malanga
MY FATHER’S DOG TAGSBy Billy Malanga
My Father’s Dog Tags
The name on my father’s brass dog tagsdoesn’t match his driver’s license.The gunfire caves filled with burning fleshand bloodshot south Pacific surfhad taken its toll. He...
THE SURRENDER OF WILL – By John Grey
SMALL TOWN IN OHIOBy John Grey
There was a father oncewho raged from Maine to California,who must have figured only metal survives,so he would always be metal,backed up with fiststhick and hard as the stone...
POEMS – By Osip Mandelstam, translated by Don Mager
POEMSBy Osip Mandelstam / translated by Don Mager
Untitled
Accept as gladness from my palmsA little sun and a little honeyAs the bees of Persephone directed.
Not to be untied is an unmoored boat,Not to be heard...
THE RIVER – By Anna Kapung
FEET ON UNSTABLE WATERSBy Anna Kapung THE RIVER The river is the same conceitedProceeds with its own eloquenceOpen in its clarity and influenceDark is its colour it has influenceIts licence to hold what it knowsIts prerogative...
SYMPHONY – By Amber McCready
SYMPHONYBy Amber McCready
Symphony
If I ever leave this world aliveI want my soul to be composedof every laugh my parents ever madeevery memory of reliefevery dream induced disbelief.I want to sleep like I am in...
HONEYMOON FOR A GHOST – By Hyrum K. Hunt
POEMSBy Osip Mandelstam / translated by Don Mager
Untitled
Accept as gladness from my palmsA little sun and a little honeyAs the bees of Persephone directed.
Not to be untied is an unmoored boat,Not to be heard...
FEED FLOWERS – By Mark Taksa
FEED FLOWERSBy Mark Taksa Feed FlowersWind, if it woke, might scrape a leafagainst the planks. Flowers wilt in the pot.A departed wind pushed the watering can, dry,to its side. Dry wood shows through porch paint.Long...
THE LADY’S EYES – By Jules Supervielle, translated by John J. Ronan
THE LADY'S EYESBy Jules Supervielle / translated by John J. Ronan
This woman, whom I know,
seems to herself unknown,
absently off in the heavens
wearing her weary expression,
A rose made of cloth
stiff on its iron stalk,
and pearls...
MIDWAY – By Michael Carr
MIDWAYBy Michael Carr
Midway
A student asks me why Dantewandered off the straight path,and I tell him that midwaythrough his life he might findthe answer.
Now, it would just be esoteric.
I wake at three to the soundof...
THE BURNING SEASON – By Lazola Pambo
THE BURNING SEASONBy Lazola Pambo Winter is sentencedinto a silent cataclysmwhen the yellow-eyed chariotsrage upon humanitya battalion of immortal squadronnone of us have ever seen The last anniversary of the universeilluminated by a catharsisthe burning season...