Poetry - Year III - Number 12 - April 2018

SUMMERby Sarah Snyder Summer Surrounded by low bushesand small thorny plants, I sit, still and small beside the sharp branchesunder a porch, listen for footsteps. This is a game. It could be sardines,hide & seek, capture the flag,...

THE CLOSED DOORby Mukund Gnanadesikan  THE CLOSED DOOR The closed door never opens Unless a hand so brave Can brave the darkness Find the knob And twist against The forces of inertia Fearful though they be And thus the dark room Stays inhabited For days Or...

SURFERSBy Byron Beynon BOB DYLAN: BLOOD ON THE TRACKS The strong cardboard sleeve camewith Till's photographas the back cover turnedto an illustration by Oppenheim;I'd heard Dylan sing liveonly once in an English field,occupying the stage like...

THE CIRCLEby Marc Carver AMBIVALENCE The man stands at the barhe tries to talk to everyone who comes to the barbut most ignore himI don't know how long he has been therebut I am guessing a...

THERE WAS TIMEBy Dean Baltesson There Was Time There was a timewhen time was in store for uswe discovered a summerand we wanted lovewanted so much for love and time to arrive. But then we heardthere never...

REFUSALS by Jeanette L. Miller REFUSALS           (after watching Jean Cocteau’s “Orphee”)Death calls him from the mirrorbut men can’t reach her alive.The mirror remains only mirroruntil Orpheus puts on his gloves. Hands first, he passes through the glass,becoming Death’s...

WINTERby Craig Kennedy Night music The gold streetlamp sheds itsbrilliant hysteriapushing sour sunshine to inifinitedistancesuncharted by the small men in the streetunappreciated by the grapefruit moon. Winter Gregorian chant, burning wood,the midnight blue riverfrozen thick and bittersweet,congealed near...

EQUINOX SWINGSby Anca Vlasopolos  Equinox Swings you’d think equinox means scales perfectly balancedour tilting world for once in harmony yet the arc of sun over trees and water cuts itself thinnerthinner each day         while moon’s arc rises           ...

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 post-war couplescame at appointed times From Captain...

   SUPER-8by Timothy B. Muren   Super-8Your grave, Phil Silver, should be here,Philip’s Fill-Up—Gas and Gro.  Hilarious, bro.filled up with bones like a new Christian, like a new Big-Wheel coasting to dirt, downsteep on plastic, breaking apart against...