Poetry

JANUARYby Laura Foley    JanuaryA blizzard of cyclone-cold windwhips snow in Elysian driftsaround Stygian pines,builds fantastical walls around the house,turns familiar woods otherworldly,provides a world of reasons to stay inside,as the finches at the feedergrow more...

HOMAGE TO ORWELLBy Tomas Sanchez Hidalgo Homage to Orwell,           surrounded by slot machines,in the main hall(perhaps the Tanjiers?)by the penultimateof our national heroes,perfect for adults and children,proud to bethe gear lever in Europe,respecting the margin for...

The Runner On feet of dreams the runner’s headed to land’s end.She knows the horizon keeps receding while she’s running,but she runs as though it didn’t.A finish line is not her aim.Along the pathway time’s...

EMBERFOOTBy  Richard King Perkins II Gasp, my stranger. Contract like burning paper.You’re distant; as loud as footsteps on anthraciteechoing away from where you once belonged.Hold on to my hand. Just don’t break my fingers.Below the...

FRACTIONSby Anya Lofamia bodies and becoming who chose this face for me : is this mine?there is some strangeness in being bornto a body of a twenty-six-year-old human being.what happened to me? he thought. it was no...

The Undead With a tip of the hat to Sam Kinison. I think about Frankenstein, the mummy, zombies, ghosts,vampires, Nosferatu, poltergeists and revenants. All of them died, but somehow became undead. They haunt our dreamsand waking hours...

WILLOW AND BARK by Sally Sandler  Somedays I Am That Cypress                                                                                 The past has all blown east.The Monterey cypress felt it leavein the teeth of a Pacific sea squall.Ever since, the cypress has leaned easttoward the...

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...

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...

THE PEOPLE WHO VANISHby Ryan Havely  The People Who VanishYou wear the wind around youlike a favorite shawl.  I tryto hold you against meand you go to ashes.  Youleave like a storm,tie your hairwith ribbonslike...