Poetry - Year IV - Number 27 - August 2019

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...

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...

LIFE, LOVE AND HOPEby Ezekiel Archibong  LIFE, LOVE AND HOPE I try to reach high to the skyand admire the simplicity of life.The lilting song as it floats through flowersalong a brook of fairy bowers.Where I...

LEARN BEFORE TEACHINGby Edward Lee  TO BE THE OCEAN, TO BE THE MAN In the oceanI become a wavecrashing onto the shore,pulling sand and stonesback with me,into me. I crash againand again,until I own all the stonesand...

CHERRY FLOWERby Daniel King  Centaur Zenith We see the galaxy below usEach star with azurite fire allureThrough Delta prisms they are peerlessTransformed like cerium laser lightFor Titans, lemniscate with wildness,Who slant triumphant, descend and arcAnd blaze...

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...

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 pleasingdry from humidity and a lack of loveThe eucalyptus has...

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 for Plumtree’s...

RUNNINGby Stella Prince  Tell me now, what do you think?I might never love again.What can you say to me tonight?So I’ll believe in you again. Cause I’m running now,I guess I might come back eventually,But I’m...

SALTby Robert McCloy  Old St. David’s (Cheraw, SC) August pines and majestic magnoliasStand testament to centuriesOf weddings, Sundays, funerals;Gentle, torrid windAdorns the forlorn, silent yard. What storiesOf passion, hope, faith,Impotence, despair, bewildermentAre sealed in the rootsOf the...