Poetry – Year VIII – Number 55 – November 2022

The Garden of Eden There is a song in the wellspring of my being,a rainbow that shines forth from my eyes.Like a child’s tears, it is endless, and from mybreath wafts the scent of the...

Forever August We hate to see August drain awayLike the grains of goldFleeing from a dying miner’s handFrom an old movie.We want to remember theLush, emerald-green of the vegetationWhich surrounds us.Like a sweet-smelling cocoon.My nose...

Summer, Speedway, Indiana 1975 I guess because his dad was a dentist,Jeff Beverly had a 500 ml syringe—minus the needle. Looking back, I understandwhy all the grown-upssaid I was disturbed for many reasons, but mainly because of that...

Writing on a Tree Thick plainness as sodaIce like migraineSlowing down thoughtsAs a reliefI findFingers covered in sandalwood paste.Half of it is wiped away with water, tingling,Listening to kajriI think of scrubbing fingers harshness in...

KILNS FANTASTIQUE for J. G. Verne Neath the kilnsof Coplay,one mile deep, adrift through cavernsof twinkling aquamarine. Rooms untouched,musty cold, gurgling streams teemedwith finned marmalade, shrooms golden brownlike altar bread, opening worldswithin worlds. T. J. Masluk, poet and writer, has work appearing in...

tenth millennium i’m sure i was the same                                  as the stone; round and ungolfed; fractured from something much larger                   that stumbled down the mountain. there is nothing that                              laughs any                                          harder than a murder of crows. i can sit, without a fossil etched           any- where;...