Poetry - Year IV - Number 20 - January 2019

BEFORE THE INK WAS DRYby Kevin Keane Before The Ink Was Dry He would take a razor blade from his desk and a make little slitOn his hand and use it as an inkwellThen signed the...

OLD SALTby Christina Petrides Old Salt Flushed from alcohol, wind and weather,And grooved from age,The woman clutches her fishing rod and glares at the sea.It twinkles back at herAnd crashes unconcerned into the rocks below. Barista There’s a...

PARISIAN PHOTO BOOTHby Mary Shanley Parisian Photo BoothIn the metro station,she was playing a sawlike it was a cello. It sounded like a theramin.The photo booth wasjust feet away.  Lisa and Icrammed into the singlespace and...

AND SO I BELIEVEby Clark Holtzman And So I Believe A stranger stood next to me at the city zoo. I had stopped at an exhibit of sand and boulders, limbs and brush. It appeared to...

CITADELby Keith Carver CITADEL You teeter on the wall, that thatthat keeps the ancient world ancient, and talkas though to rid yourself of helium, Your voice is a rumor in the smog the semi-circleof tourists dangle their feet into. The...

SUNDAY COMING DOWNby Jamel Hall Sunday Coming Down The slight shudder of newspaperadds accents to the commercial break.My mother in her meekest vestmentspaces the house singing songs of jesus,of better days, and inheritance. His name pressed to...

MANORby Ann Pedone Manor Particles of lightStrain to the seenIn the shadows of his heart. He knows her faceTaqstes her lips—Sun wrenched in the sky of her longing forThe sightHimInside—the inside of herGrowing upon t he sight...

ARTby Aditya Shankar Art A birdwove its nesttirelessly withbeak and wing,twig and grass,tweet and silence, deepinside the forest. A nest, demolishedand rebuilt, till it becamewhat the bird desired. It did not matter that the nestwas never titledor signed, spoken aboutor adulated. It hung there, a...

BUDDYby Jonathan Andrew Perez Burn, Barn, Burn What remained couldn’t be salvaged from the shipwreck of my immobility.Climate change. Father warned me don’t dive deep:Wake before you go to sleep, migrate in the afternoonRead Borges, Neruda,...

I BARELY ESCAPED WITH MY LIFEby Louis Gallo “I BARELY ESCAPED WITH MY LIFE” The lacquered reporters declare another miracleas we now deem the merest rosy swerve from dooma glittering token of divine twitch.Minicams pan the...