SPECTACLE by John Grey
SPECTACLEby John Grey YOU WANT ME TO COME HOMESure I miss the snow.That sunlight twinkle.The purity. The fineness.And this steamy heatis like a python squeeze at times.I laze aboutGet nothing done.It’s weather for...
THE SAME BOAT by R. S. Stewart
THE SAME BOATby R. S. Stewart THE SAME BOATThe contraption we still cling tohas layers of catastrophe lowerthan the steeper ones we soughtin our daily dreams, sailingor swimming safely to shoreand out again,...
MACHINE SHOPS by Roger Singer
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...
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BEES by Robin Ray
BEES
by Robin Ray
Steepest of Hills
Who can singwhen the water’s edged,mouths are paste dry,fruit trees stand barrenas virgin tides?
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OF THIS HOUR by Korkut Onaran
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 SENATOR by O. Howard Winn
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 …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
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...
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THE CROSS-TOWN by Eileen Valentino Flaxman
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 STORY by Gloria G. Murray
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...