Poetry – Year VIII – Number 55 – November 2022

kaleidoscoping a sun-dressed mare Lest my heart becomes a seagull, soars away—the world is a cold country—lest my heart effervesces in pyrogenic fever, leaving my body unlike a lamb, but a naïve bull running from...

KILNS FANTASTIQUE for J. G. Verne Neath the kilnsof Coplay,one mile deep, adrift through cavernsof twinkling aquamarine. Rooms untouched,musty cold, gurgling streams teemedwith finned marmalade, shrooms golden brownlike altar bread, opening worldswithin worlds. T. J. Masluk, poet and writer, has work appearing in...

There’s a fly in my champagne coupethe door is locked from the wrong side Freshly squeezed stars and glitter all over the floorfreshly squeezed heart vessels and vermillion all over the groundI once read that...

Writing on a Tree Thick plainness as sodaIce like migraineSlowing down thoughtsAs a reliefI findFingers covered in sandalwood paste.Half of it is wiped away with water, tingling,Listening to kajriI think of scrubbing fingers harshness in...

WHO ARE WE? Words matter—Words are powerful—Words can save or immensely damage us. But the question is “Which words do we want to choose to embroiderThe blank sheets that can last for a lifetime?”Before the words...

Summer, Speedway, Indiana 1975 I guess because his dad was a dentist,Jeff Beverly had a 500 ml syringe—minus the needle. Looking back, I understandwhy all the grown-upssaid I was disturbed for many reasons, but mainly because of that...