Poetry - Year IV - Number 27 - August 2019

IF A TREE FALLSby Diane Webster  MALFUNCTION Summer heat surfs up southern wall,slithers into swamp cooler ventsto vaporize water meant to soothehumans inside the office thusconverting cooler into heater. The woman perspires when no onelistens to facts...

A VIEW OF POLITICSby Christopher Di-Filippo    Deciphering PoliticsRefuge of a different voice= (equals) an apology in motion.Our policy has always been – (minus)the previous government= (equals) individual fascism.Economic indifference2 (squared)= (equals) households held hostage topolicy...

HOWEVER RICHby Cameron Morse    Shave GelTheo says Mama and hands mea hair from your head  so long its endshave twirled together. Today isthe bottle of my shave gelhe won’t let go of as if it containedsome wish-granter...

SPEAKING WITHOUT LANGUAGEby Jan Little  Speaking Without Language Nurses, family friends and we all grappleWith an articulate mother suddenly unableTo speak to us now. Charades and questions become new mode of talking:Where the word “medicine” and hand’s...

INTIMATIONS OF AUTUMNby Phil Kemp   INTIMATIONS OF AUTUMNSunlight fading, a chill wind drives awaylast of the day’s heat; in the forestI walk through, the turning of green to redis my life,darkening in the dusk.I am...

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 uninspired.But...

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, the thought...

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 the nextbodies of youthreplaced nameson lockers...

BEES by Robin Ray Steepest of Hills Who can singwhen the water’s edged,mouths are paste dry,fruit trees stand barrenas virgin tides? Step after stepup that steepest of hills,hungry vampire stoneslive off the burst blistersof innocent seekers. Kippers in the...

OF THIS HOURby Korkut Onaran  ANOTHER BAR JOKE A deep sea creatureand a priest walk into a bar.Where? In a poem. In a highmountain town at a landlocked state,in a historic bar. The priest drinks red wineand talks...