FOR EMILY by Joe Murphy
FOR EMILYby Joe Murphy
For Emily In Remembrance
It seems your years were set too closely together:When one toppled, all the others fell.
POST WAR BABY by Timothy Dyson
POST WAR BABYby Timothy Dyson
POST WAR BABYI never knew my birth motheryet, she gave me more than lifeOn a small velvet turntablesix babies put out for choosingThe young...
BETWEEN THE SEASONS by W. Jude Aher
BETWEEN THE SEASONSby W. Jude Aher
between the seasons
ice carved as lightdreamsshadows castingall the lost imagesbelievingbeyond the taste ofblood illusionsongs conceivingsky frozen blueclear mindsoul yearningto...
SHOULDER TO STONE by Tim Rodriguez
SHOULDER TO STONEby Timothy Rodriguez Double-thinkersopen the windowto flee this worthless limbowhich goes wantingeven though Understandingof right or wrongactually stood its groundwhile all around satamong mumbles on stepsand stoops in hopesof being cast...
BIG HEADED ANNA by Stephanie E. Dickinson
big headed annaBy Stephanie E. Dickinson
New Orleans, Louisiana. 1913. Yearning.
Big-Headed Anna Imagines Herself asa Strange, Beautiful Name
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A PLACE WITHOUT JARS by Graham McLennan
A PLACE WITHOUT THE JARSby Graham McLennan
UNTITLED XVI
Amenability unboundby dying oaks holdinga city built uponthe wrist bones of youthaware of their timelytrial of agingdeterioration...
FREEDOM by Razmik Grigoryan, translated by Maro Ghukasyan
FREEDOM
by Razmik Grigoryan, translated by Maro Ghukasyan
When I understood that the start of triumph is made on defeat,I let you goon the last day ofmy...
THE WAR’S SON by Anwer Ghani
THE WAR'S SONby Anwer Ghani
The War ’s Son
The soldiers have returned but the capitals of my chants are still whizzing like a slim mosquito...
SOMETHING BLUE by Heather Lee Rogers
SOMETHING BLUEby Heather Lee Rogers Nuclear Fission You see our lovewas just good chemistrythose first date cocktails ofraw pheromonesand evolutionary drive,despite your egowe are not divinejust well-dressed test tubesmixing atomsand hot moleculesso when our...
ESPERANZA by Manuel Madera
ESPERANZAby Manuel Madera
A Follower OF Desolation
There is not muchI do when I thinkOf the birchesResting in the woods.
Once in a...