Poetry - Year IV - Number 27 - August 2019

HOWEVER RICHby Cameron Morse    Shave GelTheo says Mama and hands mea hair from your head  so long its endshave twirled together. Today isthe bottle of my shave gelhe won’t let go of as if it containedsome wish-granter...

CHERRY FLOWERby Daniel King  Centaur Zenith We see the galaxy below usEach star with azurite fire allureThrough Delta prisms they are peerlessTransformed like cerium laser lightFor Titans, lemniscate with wildness,Who slant triumphant, descend and arcAnd blaze...

THE SAME BOATby R. S. Stewart     THE SAME BOATThe contraption we still cling tohas layers of catastrophe lowerthan the steeper ones we soughtin our daily dreams, sailingor swimming safely to shoreand out again, the thought...

BONDAGEThe intensity of your glarecould sear my fleshburn a hole right through me.I compress myself into the chair,use a book as a shield.I have done it again,rubbed sandpaper on your wounds.What did I say...

OF THIS HOURby Korkut Onaran  ANOTHER BAR JOKE A deep sea creatureand a priest walk into a bar.Where? In a poem. In a highmountain town at a landlocked state,in a historic bar. The priest drinks red wineand talks...

THE CROSS-TOWNby Eileen Valentino Flaxman    The Cross-Townmakes its way in fits and starts, dayin and day out, from the east side tothe west and the doors hiss and thebrakes screech and people get on andoff,...

SALTby Robert McCloy  Old St. David’s (Cheraw, SC) August pines and majestic magnoliasStand testament to centuriesOf weddings, Sundays, funerals;Gentle, torrid windAdorns the forlorn, silent yard. What storiesOf passion, hope, faith,Impotence, despair, bewildermentAre sealed in the rootsOf the...

SPEAKING WITHOUT LANGUAGEby Jan Little  Speaking Without Language Nurses, family friends and we all grappleWith an articulate mother suddenly unableTo speak to us now. Charades and questions become new mode of talking:Where the word “medicine” and hand’s...

A LOVE STORYby Gloria G. Murray    A LOVE STORY we kissed in the dark hallwaysof the Canarsie projectsbacks pressedagainst the concrete walllips sealedwith the grout of lustyour tongue swirling under mineyour ardent fingers curlinglike a sculptoraround...

LEARN BEFORE TEACHINGby Edward Lee  TO BE THE OCEAN, TO BE THE MAN In the oceanI become a wavecrashing onto the shore,pulling sand and stonesback with me,into me. I crash againand again,until I own all the stonesand...