Poetry - Year II - Number 8 - July 2017

THE PROPAGATIONBy Mark Young The Mackerel Fish school whenthe moon is out. Be-fore. Separate. Atvarious levels withdisparate meanings.States of grace. Wait-ing for the cast of lightacross the surface of the water. On app-earance drawn to it.Coalesce, luminescent.In the...

SHUDDERBy Dustin Pickering  Shudder Love, shudder and face me:look at these cold, keen eyesand terrify them.Make sound into lightand drive each fault down harder into my heart. I am numb with confusionand this madness makes me ineptat...

BLUE GRASSBy Gabriella Garofalo God, why have you got so many souls? In the deepest blue of your existence No, you think and shout, no – Even stones fear beasts and kids Trees stifle branches A red lamp measures time...

WATCHING THE SUN GO BYBy Gareth Culshaw WATCHING THE SUN GO BY Her days were bythe window. An ornamentpainted by his hands. She would watch the sunmove along the terracedhouse. Turning the time from west to east.A sack...

BREATHINGBy Bryan McCormack    BreathingThe father’s breathing steadiedto a light,sputtering hum.Outside his door, the sonlistened carefully, ingesting the hum’svibrations, producing another sputterin his eardrums.It was like this before, when the son was a boy,and it continues...

ONE WEEK DAYWHILE WALKING By Jeremy Gadd    One week day while walking downWattle Street, I heard a cry thatbrought me to a halt in mid-stridelike a prisoner shackled to a wall,and my heart missed a beat,...

LIVE LIFE BECAUSEBy Samantha Kriney You Were the Start, the Peace, My First Years                                    --after Barry White My feet loved the touch of my mother’s womb until thefirst note you sung to teach me how to controlmy...

HOMAGE TO ORWELLBy Tomas Sanchez Hidalgo Homage to Orwell,           surrounded by slot machines,in the main hall(perhaps the Tanjiers?)by the penultimateof our national heroes,perfect for adults and children,proud to bethe gear lever in Europe,respecting the margin for...

    SACRIFICEBy Georgia Eugenides    THE SUMMER I NEVER HADin the morningi search for myself everywhere,under ivory sheets that smell of cinnamon, between porcelain jarson the highest kitchen shelf and among blue, crossed outpoems in my notebooki...

NOW I SEEBy Mignon Ariel King Chifforobe Daddy had one, so when its three tones of art-deco woodcreaked open on tiny black hinges to emit a breath of cedar,I fell in love. I could see the...