Poetry

Among the Lotophagoi I ate lotus, (Full) Moon cakes,and yet the memory loss was onlythe expected fatigue of carbohydrate cells.Southern China was not Ogygia, what with the palms,mangos and the custardy miracle of durian. The young...

Masterpiece “I find bits of scrap metal beneath her bedfrom boys who bury promises in her belly.”—Kristina Haynes Her body was a junkyard: a potpourriof someone else’s tired mess—a regurgitatedmasterpiece (fragments collaged together:rotten bits of stranger...

HIDEOUS WINNERS Stray bits of grammar peck at the skyAlgae with red snouts wins the next track meetSea foam and plastic comply with the new climate’s directivesA revised global contract is signed between tidelines and...

The Institution by Aracelly P. Campo Love-the grand illusionTheatrical spectacle presented to us on an empty stageTransaction driven unions that dictate the roles we are to playWe follow conventions of our own inventionsWe surrender our willAnd...

WORLD FINESSE AND NUANCE STRATEGY by Bob Eager Immediate world and world  beyond,Strategy to grow into new role..Stretch and reach to a new worldDiscrepancy  between where you are and where you want to be!Truth lies between...

Equus. We called him Equus, a black horse bucking inside a desert corral because he wouldn’t be broken. He was still feral, they said. Stubborn as a mule. Later we discovered a group of wild...

Waking Up The sun peeks over the mountain’s ridgeas it does every morningunless there are clouds to hide behind.The bright orange, yellow familiar glowfills the house through drawn curtains. Our winding road is glistening, fresh with...

Only Stars When I look back,I always do itnot with a smile, but with astonishmenton my face. I remember the time,when I was little kid and thenthere still were old people who were from another...

Alnitak Kalki will come. Hundreds of years must pass.Kalki will come. We wait. Trapped we crave our son The far stars callLocked in local space Those kilns coax hardDark, this backlit box But walls will fall Kalki...

The Lord’s Prayer Trumped Our Faker, who art in the chalk-white House,pumped is thy name, crumbly is your fame.From thy sand trap, thy will be done to what’ll be left of Earth in the name...