Poetry

PASSIONby Rachel Fox “Passion”                               She skips through a patch of sunflowers                  And gently brushes the petals through her pale fingers                       The pleasant stench of her peach perfume lingers                                  As she tries to picture her hometown                          And her prince charming...

GOING, GONEby Doug Bolling          Terret 9 The spillage of itold news creeping, creeping. The cat face of time,the hours before,behind. A hundred sermonsbundled, put to restbehind the fridge. You go it alone,sojourner on a missiontoward shadowland. You take of...

THE LAND BETWEENby Brandon Marlon The Land Between Once the country of our defeat,now a liminal ecotone, zone of our appreciation,an abundant overlap blendingCanadian Shield with St. Lawrence Lowlandsto forge a biodiverse greenbelt of grassland birds,oaken...

MY MAMA'S WALTZBy Timothy Pilgrim My mama’s waltz(with a nod to Theodore Roethke) The perfume on your dresscould drive a young boy crazy —dark lust, secret untold since —our nightly ritual, flow and bend. We whirled from...

    SAUCER OF STARLIGHTby Bobbi Sinha-Morey   Saucer of StarlightThe woman with dementiadoesn't come out to sit in herpatio anymore and her windchimes no longer caressed bythe wind have lost their sound;the only spark of bright energyare...

SWIMMING WITH PICASSOBy Mike Jurkovic We Will Judge Angels We will judge angelsand consider ourselvesthe best among them.Lengthening the ruse of yearsby that much more,that much more. We will judge angelsand the consensus will tiltin our favor.Igniting...

IN HIGH SCHOOLby Ron Riekki             In High School, We Tried to Light Each Other on Fire We didn’t want to end lives, but rather to seehow beautiful the direction of flames could be.We were stupid,...

TWELVE O'CLOCK HIGHBy Duane Anderson Detective Skills I was about to ask her if she was donating todaysince she had done so previously at thepast two blood drives, but then I rememberedthat she gave double reds...

SOMETHING IN THE WATERby Don Thompson Famous Fathers(Theodore Roosevelt III) Some sons are born into ghostliness,never quite there—unnoticed,haunting the dark cornersof their father’s repute.Their complaints seem to come from far away. Others who are recalcitrantand polished like...

MR. WONDERFULby Jack Brown THE RHYTHM OF TIME This is the hour of the cat.One with the night.On the street.Air parted as she wasgliding in through lamplightbetween cars over curbs.Flexing on paw pads.Claws gripping concrete.Grey sidewalk...