YOUR SUNDAY BEST by Scott Laudati
YOUR SUNDAY BESTBy Scott Laudati
Your Sunday Best
i can see girls at barstoolsready again to push their doubtsdown past the breakers,past spilled pints and menthat wouldn’t carry them on their backslike their fathers.there are cities...
LOTUS by Martina Reisz Newberry
LOTUSBy Martina Reisz Newberry
LOTUS
On the other side of the mountain,my wealthy friend has built a castle.It was a long project but now sits,
quiet as a profound thought, complete.The day I visited her, we hadcoffee...
PLATONIC LOVE by Ray Fenech
PLATONIC LOVEBy Raymond Fenech
This Will Never happen to me Syndrome
There is Christmas, Easter and Valentine but also depressing advertisements about cancer. Outside - the slime and sleet - endless winter. Never before had I...
TRACK 18 by Benjamin Schmitt
TRACK 18By Benjamin Schmitt
Track 18
Sophie bears me to ill willshe cannot barethe weight of her own heartshe-bears have robbed herwith their raw fish breathand den scentsof the inquisitive breezethat once scatteredorganized leaf piles of...
MY NOTEBOOK by Charles Dutka
MY NOTEBOOKBy Charles Dutka
Cafe’ in a Basement
This green teatastes like cadmiumor is it stardustand raspberries?
Its glass container the textureof musicand the color ofrunic magicperformed on a stageof frozen salt.
It was the temperature of that bluish...
NANCY MOREJON’S POETRY Translated by Connor Simons
WINDThree Poems from Nancy Morejon’s “Mutismos”Translated by Connor L. Simons
Wind
A circle. A spirit. A mirror.Immediately myself.From that torturous seat,you come in pursuit of me.What do you search forunder my black figurethat hides itself,even though...
ON THE SANDS OF LIDO by Bob Varghese
ON THE SANDS OF LIDOBy B. A. Varghese
Knowing
It was enoughknowing he was therehis presence like an army of giantsbaritone voices encouragingalong the battle linestrong hands behind meguarding guidingplunging me forward to my future manyet...
ICE CREAM TRUCK by Alicia Cole
ICE CREAM TRUCKBy Alicia Cole Ice Cream TruckThe cone is always the cone.The rhyme scheme, the metric oomph:these hold the dripping words.They're always melting. The sonnet,the sapphic, the prose poem, the cento.Melting into the readers'...
FALLEN SEEDS by Donny Barilla
FALLEN SEEDSBy Donny Barilla Fallen SeedsSweet juices pooled about the floor of my mouth.I snapped the apples skin and felt the floods slap across my tongue.Pulps sauteed the parchment walls of my throatas I opened...
INDIAN POINT by Jack Brown
INDIAN POINTBy Jack Brown
After planting purple spider wortaround the tombstone of the old soldierin the cemetery at the end of the roadwe scuttle from ridge to ridge.A country Docand a visitor from New York.
May...