FATHER AND SON – By Richard Pacheco
FATHER AND SONBy Richard Pacheco Father and SonMy father waited for meit took 21 years of tryingthree doctors proclaimedmy mother would never have childrenthen she arrived at menopauseand oops at last I was thereand the...
AS OF NOW – By Jim Hanlen
AS OF NOWPoems by Jim Hanlen
As of Now
I've just gotten used to wherethe creek and stone belong.They found their place a long time ago.
For a long time I lived like smoke,uncertain, unsure where I...
MEMORIAL – By Geoffrey A. Rubin
MEMORIALBy Geoffrey A. Rubin
Memorial
Weeping willows talkAnd haunt a temple of solace.In a soothing slow voiceWhispers down from heaven.The power of those not presentInspires witnessed remembrance of
The silence of the sacrificedAnd our own calling on...
TOURNÉE DU CHAT NOIR – By Susan Cossette
TOURNÉE DU CHAT NOIRBy Susan Cossette
Tournée du Chat Noir
It is a suitable night for lost souls.The Swiss Guard, clad head to toe in goldLead poets and painters into the smoky fold,Of those who fear...
SOME LIVING STRUCTURE IN THE UNDERLYING THOUGHT
SOME LIVING STRUCTURE IN THE UNDERLYING THOUGHTBy Carol Frith
Lepidopteron
A mourning cloak butterfly flashing winter maroonemerges from the creek willows,
its dark wings the lost cause of some velvet sadness:bitters in the willow bark.
A long migration...
KAME WARURU / JAR BREAKING – Translation by William Waters
KAME WARURU Jar BreakingTranslation by William Waters A SONG FOR AHN, MYONG HWAOriginal Korean:Phonetic Korean:Ahn-gay-ga god-hee-goMyong-song-ee sa-ra-chee-chaHwa-rha Harm-ee Da-shee sal-lan-nan-da. English:As the mist risesVenus disappears;Even the dust sparkles. KAME WARURU* Jar Breaking For BashoI hadforgottenthe jarin thekitchen,--had forgottenthe openwindows,and the...
LOVE IN A WAR TIME – By Jeton Kelmendi
LOVE IN A WAR TIMEBy Jeton Kelmendi
Love in a War Time
Sometime I want them to happenThese thingsDifferentlyFor example, a heavy fog fell in me,Until the border is easilyPassed,To pass there first of allWhere a...
AT THE SCUOLA DI SAN ROCCO – By Anne Babson
AT THE SCUOLA DI SAN ROCCOBy Anne Babson
The gate guard greeted me “pronto,” not “buongiorno,”As if I were afar off phoning, but there IStood, ecce homo. Years, this artist contributed
As dues a painting. He lived...
THE HOUSE, AFTER SANDY – By Samantha Zimbler
THE HOUSE, AFTER SANDYBy Samantha Zimbler
1. The GirlNo airplanes flew by.Outside the window, I saw small dogs shiveringhelplessly as they floated down a riverof boats and houses.
I spent the dark days cultivating mindfulnessin a...
WRITING FOR STRANGERS – By Olaf Dammann
WRITING FOR STRANGERSBy Olaf Dammann
1where do storks comefrom? if nothing else,tender enchantrix, whereis your self, yourbones are wrapped insilver linings, thatevery cloud musthave, like ends oftunnels musthave light2strangers, idealcompanions ontrips to the uncertainif the...