Poets in this issue — click a name to read
- Antebi, Debbi
- Clarke, Lauren
- Cunningham, Don
- Davidson, Tracy
- Drehmer, Aleathia
- Ellman, Neil
- Engel, Joe
- Ferdon, Joel
- Good, Howie
- Harris, Heather
- Hartwell, Richard
- Hoefler, Matthias
- Iuppa, M.j.
- Kewin, Simon
- Laberge, Peter
- Larke, Maude
- Mcbride, Lauren
- Moore, M. Elaine
- Nardolilli, Benjamin
- Ngo, Deborah
- Petras, Robert
- Ratcliffe, Michael
- Schmidt, Wendy
- Shapiro, Daniel M.
- St. Pierre, Pat
- Tustin, John
- Van Rhoads, Shea
- Ward, Anthony
- Webb, Don
Daniel M. Shapiro
I feel like coral.
I may look beautiful, but
touch me and you bleed.
Daniel M. Shapiro
Open your stardust
till dawn greets your suffering
with a lone pale yell.
Deborah Ngo
Labyrinth of thoughts...
A heart of glass and
Crystal tears of sorrow
Anthony Ward
I run from myself
Aware that when I’m most tired
I will still be there
Anthony Ward
I’m deafened by sound
Hearing only the silence
Of the noise inside
Joel Ferdon
I still wear your shirt,
Old man. 1977 faded
Plaid. Your last remnant.
Joel Ferdon
Every time I look upon
My page of pink petals,
Memory creeps on blue Zhen shores.
Joel Ferdon
My books are the lovers
When the flesh is absent,
And the night is still young.
Neil Ellman
After the tide falls back
there are broken shells and weathered glass
footprints not our own.
Lauren McBride
dams and deforestation
land and people parched –
progress?
Peter LaBerge
lighthouse, marigold fingers
behind it clasp the paint and
drag it into the lathery sea
Tracy Davidson
a broken blue eggshell
the only sign of new life
among the gravestones
Tracy Davidson
a cloudless moonlit night
the stars brilliantly displayed
on the red carpet
Tracy Davidson
from the black heart of the forest
a kingfisher soars skyward
wings sable against the sun
Robert Petras
Moonlit beach
Palm trees swaying
Two dancers, one shadow.
Robert Petras
Computer turned off
A deer frolics outside
Image downloaded.
Wendy Schmidt
Trapped in our boxes,
Closed and apart from others,
Choose to be opened.
Debbi Antebi
Friday blues--
lonely weekend
among happy couples
M.J. Iuppa
Continual rhythm
Dip and pull, dip and pull
Invisible oars
M.J. Iuppa
Wisps of spider silks
Unravel, and floating down,
Sink beneath shadows
M. Elaine Moore
He’s dreamt so long of flying free.
The cage door swings open...
Sweet freedom calls his name at last.
M. Elaine Moore
Dune grass sways,
the ocean sings her song.
I am home.
Don Cunningham
blue skies dripping half-life
children malformed
eons lost
Debbi Antebi
with a crippling fear of rejection
the pencil holds its breath--
waiting.
M. Elaine Moore
His fingertips alight her skin,
decades disappear.
Love and lust reunite
Benjamin Nardolilli
Mother, Father, Child come to the old stones
The guide tells them all they need to know,
Fantasies of buried treasure and bones.
Benjamin Nardolilli
Boat is too small, mainland too large,
The bearded men can only dream
Of iron horses and aluminum birds
Michael Ratcliffe
So long had it been
Since I held a spring blossom—
I had forgotten.
Lauren Clarke
I think I dance to a different beat
Awkward and defiant
I got no rhythm, but I got soul.
Debbi Antebi
after the fight,
she left silently with soft footsteps,
like the sound of oars against open water
Howie Good
Buds pop,
a nation of suicide bombers
in dynamite vests.
Aleathia Drehmer
There is loveliness, I’m overtaken with it—
ambushed, surprised
and falling like a petticoat
Heather Harris
Today is not breaching the water’s surface
but knowing that the mud beneath my feet
holds eggs, of fishes and tadpoles.
Pat St. Pierre
Birth arrives in spring
Colorful countryside blossoms
Gravestone marks the loss.
Pat St. Pierre
Bees buzzing around
Children play in the garden
Stone statues stand still.
Pat St. Pierre
Black air swirls like a funnel
High mountains reach for the sky
Memories are lost.
John Tustin
Smoke pours from your heart
Your body an inferno
I am oxygen
John Tustin
Walking over stones
Blocked by mountains and rivers
Where am I going?
Simon Kewin
the rose glow of dawn
shows in shaded pencil lines
a whole world redrawn
Joe Engel
We handle our souls
like clumsy busboys
with fine china.
Maude Larke
Written on the back of a madrigal to spring,
Monteverdi bleeding into flash,
two halfways combine their camouflage.
Howie Good
Last night I dreamed they built
a giant bonfire. The books I’d written
in my head refused to burn.
Shea Van Rhoads
Maybe God
may be what happens
when we listen.
Shea Van Rhoads
A snag in the sweater’s story:
one long yard knit the rest together
came loose and left her bare.
Deborah Ngo
The ebb and the flow,
Waves rising to the shore...
Wetness inevitable
Richard Hartwell
spiraling downward
twisting in the summer breeze
eucalyptus leaves
Richard Hartwell
grassbound Zamboni
swirls of patterns in the lawn
thousands of dead blades
Matthias Hoefler
her pink hand
outstretched
clam shell
Don Webb
The last Aleph written
The last zahir spoken of
blind eyes close.
Don Webb
Cattle of the sun
mooing on the Liffey’s bank
Shamus comes raiding.