Issue 30

Karla Padawer Solomon

wet brush paints over height marks on the door frame a blank canvas

Karla Padawer Solomon

As the months pass by, I can feel myself Growing. I must leave the cocoon, else my bones Will break out of my own skin.

Laura Atkinson

have you a way with the window? lift it please; they need air.

Barbara Tate

rattling leaves chattering cottonwoods tell of things to come

Chris Gusek

calm setting sun - from another neighborhood a whining skilsaw

Jackie Maugh Robinson

immense Buddha listening to prayers small and not so

Bill Melton

Tears silently stream From eyes that stare at nothing Metro train rolls on

Tyson West

i pull and prune words deaf to her yardwork commands purple weeds spiral

Tyson West

ex con on the beach tagged with varicolored tattoos wears his rap sheet

Darla Mottram

Pines spotted with the amber shells of cicadas still clinging to bark they’ve abandoned.

Timothy Hicks

love letters in these frail hands - a time machine I’ll never get to ride

Cody Schweickert

Intimacies stripped naked unravel in a jar— entangled with hysteria

Jackie Maugh Robinson

no tail to speak of excited bulldog puppy wags her face

Cynthia Sharp

rhythms of womb time spilled like sunlight incarnate when Gaia dreamed earth

Jay Friedenberg

ridgeline trail on the downward slope the drift of falling leaves

Patty Tancyus

brown leaves on dry husks yellow silk of summer gone breeding ground of hope

Laura Atkinson

Late in the evening Orion’s belt glitters. We can hear the stars.

Craig Brandis

I shall build up my poems from individual nerves firing like birds do

Kate Ginsberg

She sings softly; capturing sunlight in her hair she glows with life

Judy Beaston

songs waken pond life washed bright like day by full moon wolf meets his new mate

Judy Beaston

moon’s shedding his clothes I blush at his exposure. smile at his presence

Dennis Lowe

red shirt, black shirt— companions walking at dusk looking for snow

Dennis Lowe

geriatric wigs clouds appearing as white scalps floating in the sea

Mandy Brown

He sleeps in the room While I scale to conquer prose Snoring his support

Mackenzie Meyers

Heroism Fighting for freedom behind the red, white, and blue the true heros stand

Mark J. Mitchell

Over the prison A small moon throws white light: Doll faces outside.

Arthur Heifetz

hunting for the elusive Mot Juste he was assailed by swarms of Tired Cliches and swallowed whole by the Great Mundane

Chris Milam

Crawling beneath your traumatized skin Suturing, tasting, begging

Chris Milam

Our chaotic ink vibrating on the page A flirtatious prologue

Grace Black

it’s a painted sky and a fine art moon naked canvas I lay bare

Grace Black

caught the universe on my tongue my burdens weightless there

Betty Houle

flaming red and gold breeze hot and wild love begins

Betty Houle

sparkling crystals white blanket on dirt Earth sleeps

William Davies

Starlings in a field, dark blessings too numerous to count.

Rayna Momen

I write to filter the darkness that moves through me, and sometimes, to move you.

Dominic Ward

The fire in your heart Tend it well Do what you must.

C. Z. Heyward

Mississippi fingers plowing rows in Chicago freedom’s just as heavy

Scott Outlar

That’s just the way life is – it’s a bark, a moan, a grunt, and a whine, then you die.

Colin Campbell

beside endless sea tiny lives watch grains of sand so what do we see

Valentina Ranaldi-Adams

cool, fall-like July drifting clouds hide the full moon crickets’ constant hum

Jennifer Martelli

I’m glad you wanted what I wanted, bootlegger I’ll be hard to beat

Craig Thomas Holden

Passerine chorus rendered gently, Shadows of dawn escape heaven’s rim— Entwined beneath soft white down

James Gilmore

it takes a needle to spoil a sweet tasting cake one person to ruin the world

Nate Simpson

Snowflake falls on dead rose. I am the prisoner of small, fragile things.

Parisorn Thepmankorn

The moon meditates as the sky weeps in warmth, saves her confessions for tomorrow.

Michael Lacy

how spring pods unfurl-- naked while awaiting sun turned warm after cold.

Grace Dion

Porcupine shuffles down the road slowly at dusk, his confidence in his quills.

Grace Dion

Observe my blue spruce, a colossal conifer dwarfing my little brown self.

Lucia Damacela

The incandescent click doesn’t reach you; you, who moved out of the picture, photobombing with your absence.

Richard Hartwell

Water spouts west of Waimea, silent humpbacks migrating, twin tail flips signal aloha.