Poetry - Year V - Number 35 - April 2020

AS CINZAS DO SOLby Roseangelina Batista   As Cinzas do SolCegam o céu;Secam o sal de Pernem.Dão bocadinhos à luaDe açafrão e cal.Cai, cai pó-ente,    Põe cinzas d’ouroNos tetracantos da mente.Cinzas da ÍndiaSerpenteiam em minhas águas:Brindes de taças...

STILL LIFEby Sarette Albin Still Life In the morning’s stillness I slipped outFrom your loose embrace and leftYou sleeping in, face craned upward,Chin exposed and underbelly white.The space my head had lain a moment before,Nothing now...

MAKING LOVEby George Payne Making Love the way astarving coyoteneeds the Mooncrimson &skeletalyour handswere needed  Simplehands  risingon thechest your jeanskicked offthe bed you wereneeded chrome ionplated stainless witha leather strap at the edgeof the pillow stuck betweenthe hours in theamber of now a vaporoussweet oliveblack night My...

EPHRAM PRATT REMEMBERS TWISTING & TURNINGby Jack E Lorts  Ephram Pratt Speaks of Whispering Quiet the noiseof the carburetor, or is it a carbunclehe asked, in muted silence,of a passing stranger,one with shaggy locks, looking as ifhis eyes emerged from an...

THE SHALLOWby Ambrose Gibbs  The shallow earth to live for what life is worth, for the birth of a child in this wild society full of poverty to be shallow on the roads of anxiety...

SPOT ON MY BACKby George Thomas SPOT ON MY BACK three timesI've lost the whole shooting matchas Zorba might saythe whole catastrophe multipliedthere's a spot on my backthat hasn't been washedsince my last divorceI go through...

Gnawing at the Flesh Teeth gnaw at the flesh belowhungry to erase what was once sweet. There is a throbbing beatingat the rhythm of a dying heart. It feeds to grow like a playing ballmade of rebar...

PULL OVERby Peter Mladinic Pull Over Pull over in daylight.Take the exit ramp.Pull over. I need to tell you something.Pull into the rest area, please. By the time you get backinto parkway traffic,life as you’ve known itwill...

AMERICAN IN BRAZILby David Lee Garrison Last Look, Lisbon, 1965 The troopship was leaving Lisbonfor the war in Angola,its deck covered with soldiersgazing back.  Heavy sun fellon their shoulders, and their shadowsdarkened the armored steelthat knifed...

FROM ABOVEby Roger Singer  FROM ABOVE  the bones of wordsremain behindlike rumpled sheetswithout memory of sleepas day tossesa mixed salad of walkingand arriving the hours melt intothe water of day time slows foranxious eyeswhile rain marks windowsand umbrellas...