Poetry - Year IV - Number 27 - August 2019

MACHINE SHOPSby  Roger Singer MACHINE SHOPS  It’s a long whistleputting the handon men and womenas the earth tiltspulling them pastopen wooden doorsinto the mazeof machinerywhere generationsstood and countedhours and yearsuntil...

BEES by Robin Ray Steepest of Hills Who can singwhen the water’s edged,mouths are paste dry,fruit trees stand barrenas virgin tides?

OF THIS HOURby Korkut Onaran  ANOTHER BAR JOKE A deep sea creatureand a priest walk into a bar.Where? In a poem. In a...

HE PRETENDS TO BE A SENATORby O. Howard Winn   HE PRETENDS TO BE A SENATORbut it is clearhe is really a Mock turtlefrom Capitalist Wonderland andhis song is a serenade tothe Red Queen...

RE-READING ULYSSES …by Louis Gallo   RE-READING ULYSSES IN MEDIAS RESAFTER MANY DECADES WHILE STEERINGTHE “SANTA MARIA” WESTWARD INTO THE DYING SUNAs Leopold savors his kidney with relish, his eye also cockedon an advertisement...

LITTLE MAX MOUSE  by James Padgett  It was a warm, sunny day in Willowy Wood.Little Max Mouse ran as fast as he could.He had to get...

THE CROSS-TOWNby Eileen Valentino Flaxman    The Cross-Townmakes its way in fits and starts, dayin and day out, from the east side tothe west and the doors hiss and thebrakes screech and people get...

A LOVE STORYby Gloria G. Murray    A LOVE STORY we kissed in the dark hallwaysof the Canarsie projectsbacks pressedagainst the concrete walllips sealedwith the grout of lustyour tongue swirling under mineyour ardent fingers curlinglike...

BONDAGEThe intensity of your glarecould sear my fleshburn a hole right through me.I compress myself into the chair,use a book as a shield.I have done it again,rubbed sandpaper on your wounds.What did...

EMBODIED SOILby Sarah Conklin  You never loved me, I was just a body. I come home to dead flowers hanging on the wall, parched but aesthetically...