Poetry - Year II - Number 7 - Volume I - June 2017

FACES OF LOVEBy Faleeha Hassan Faces of love  Do not carry me in your handLike a small bird wet with rain dropsLove is a traumatic experienceBut I want to live itTo keep my windows overlooking the...

LIKE WINDBy Ed Hack Weather In America The lightning didn't stop. An hour or moreit lit the reddish sky at 3amas rain slashed down in waves, terrific pourthat drenched the screens, as if it couldn't end,and...

CONTUSIONSBy Gary Beck Hidden Treasure We move through city streetsintent on arrivalat destinations,immune to the beautyaround us;elegant willow,sweet Finch song,the fall of lighton an old building,the paths of pleasurethat reduce the angstof the city dweller,focus narrowingon...

TO MY MOTHER'S FRIENDBy Leilani Ahia To My Mother's Friend Let me tell you of the walkyou missed this eveningbecause you did not care for wetand coldand the land's natural state.I ventured intoSomethingthat was not salty...

LITERARY CONTESTSFICTIONNONFICTIONPOETRYHAPPENINGSBOOK REVIEWSINTERVIEWSNEW TITLESART & PHOTOGRAPHYADELAIDE Independent Quarterly Literary Magazine / Revista Literária Independente Trimestral, New York / Lisboa, Online Edition            TIMESBy Anwer Ghani The SunsetMy hand is so hot like the soul of the sunset. It...

DOWNPOURBy Bruce McRae Downpour A heavy rain falling over Lithium Island,the roads flooded with tears of the disenfranchised,the quarry a lake of grief and woes,the tavern’s cellar under thirteen inchesof something that once resembled water. All of...

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...

SIMPLE PLEASURES ELUDE ME LIKE FIREFLIESBy Shirley Jones-Luke  Simple Pleasures Elude Me like Fireflies Joy flits away in the moonlight,solitude is the crystal tears of starsdropping in clouds that shift restlesslyabove a dark world, I feel...

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...

THE MAN-UNKIND BLUES #1By Henry Reneau      Anne Waldman If you turn the Goddess to stone, don't be surprisedif she doesn't bleed.                                                                                 —Andrea Potts precariousness does not occur in isolationemerging slick & singed but fromloud moments of catastrophesalt...