Poetry

PLEASURES OF THE STREETby R.T. Castleberry  PLEASURES OF THE STREETStanding in the doorwaytrying to make outwho’s crying in the flamesSister says it’s redhead Judasshe can place it in the Holy WordSheriff leans from the passenger...

YOU HAD ME AT GOODBYEby Alan Berger All the things you left behind.Your toothbrush, your pillow, where you would rest your restless mind.The book you wrote and read out loud.The way you couldn’t blend in...

GUITAR STATUEby Helen Hagemann Guitar Statue A dark grey, a very dark grey, quite dark it is almost black. This statue is a composition not for practice. Ordinarily, a guitar would stand in a better place,...

I SEE THE GREAT CITIESby Joseph A. Dandurand I did not gatherwe are all here for thesame reason or anotherand the breaths we take inand out and in and outgive us the time toexperience all...

SAVE FACEby Marissa Lucatorto YouYouYou who invade my dreamsAttack my mindEnrage my spiritYouWho comes to meWhen it is darkWhen no one else is aroundWhen everything is quiet, silent, stillYouWho make me think terrible thoughtsMake me...

STARSby Cecilia Devine AugustWhat would you thinkIf I told youI dreamt ofyour open-mouthed kisses on my neckAndyour touch against my leg-stained with the Redwood Earth?You and I hidden altogether byA canopy of trees.I could have...

ELVISby Gayle Compton Elvis The whole world's gone crazy!Gone hog wild over Elvis Presley and thatold sinful rock and roll!Daddy slams his big coal miner's fiston the supper tablesloshing red rot Krogers Spotlight coffeeall over Mother's...

NIGHT: A VISIONby Christien Gholson Transubstantiation 1. Who owns the note to the house? CitiMortgage owns the note. No, it's Freddie Mac. Trace the note through the ether and you'll find it's probably in a cloud on...

FILE NUMBER THIRTY-ONEby Ken Simpson Drowning Shadows of familiar facesappear in dreamsas memoriesempty of empathybefore disappearing. The Vanity of Disbelief The lure of lunacybeckons mindsdeprived of honestyexploited by mythsamd liesabout patriotismparadise and pride.

IN A PORTUGUESE FIELDby George Moore In a Portuguese Field A dolmen by abandoned railsthat cross this terrible, empty fieldin lower Europe, and the gravetoppled sometime in the first centuryand near the rusted tracksstill ringing with...