Issue 52

James Clarke

Fingering buttons Triple tonguing sweet gasps Make music with me

Jackie Maugh Robinson

chalk artist signs a canyon in the sidewalk my lost keys

Sonia Lee

Welcome to the bubble dreams Feeling, thinking, drowning all at once Between the slit of fantasy and reality

Nova Jones

prisms of colors dance on the wall to the sound of pixie chimes as chandeliers swing in the sun

Chris Wood

Dusk, mosquitoes bite A symphony of crickets and cicadas Fireflies keep time

Mary Crane Fahey

Unbidden, unbridled tears well up Spill over, bathing your grief Fierce and wild, in liquid sorrow

Judy Phelps

Bobbing Triangles Sails dancing above the waves Gliding past seagulls

Debbie Walker-Lass

Falling like Autumn I need help for the harvest Brown, red, bittersweet

Javone Davis

Rooms we left behind Are stuck with our memories And messes we made

Rebecca Kane

raking fall leaves the whirling wind mocking me

Margaret Tau

at crossroads I brake for yellows and reds autumn leaves

Josh Horowitz

divine city of gleaming gypsum busy with life, with love, invincible once

Angela Sargent

Endorphin release I soar fast, high, breathless Gliding past eagles

Erin Jones

backyard patch of violas thinking of my mother and a small Wisconsin town

C L Killgore

Water winds through Empty, broken spaces Smoothing out, recreating...

Suzanne Cottrell

Freezing rain glazes tree branches. Frozen prisms diffuse sunlight. Limbs crack; icy shards scatter.

Bill Melton

tilted in the sky the Big Dipper pouring stars an immense ladle

Annie Feucht

anthropomorphic roach dances over pile rug laughing in delight

Joel Savishinsky

The Zen Master knows that he has nothing to teach you, which is why it takes so long.

Duane Anderson

Potential, there it is and isn't.

Michael Flanagan

praying in the dawn searching for a word, some light receiving silence

Stephen Curro

twilight the lake wears a pink sky

Anthony Ray

old man in the chair tell me your stories once more I look up to you

Dean K Miller

The hunger in your eyes Betrays the emptiness of your soul An upturned hand asks for substance

Dave Bessom

Tightly wound, our atoms hold each other in the shape of arms.

Ann Christine Tabaka

If I hang upside-down from this tree long enough, I shall become a child again.

Doug Van Hooser

Disappointment slouches in the chair, stares at the clock as it repeats itself

Katherine Szpekman

The air between us sits like glass. We drive in silence. Two eggs cradled in their carton.

James B. Nicola

sloppily scrawled names on back of snapshot. young friends once. we squint to read

Zach Agnew

The screen glows bright As the hungry device consumes the night Leaving only crumbs of a life

Casey Harn

grandma's old house - this year's leaves falling on last year's leaves

George Stratigakis

The portraits on the wall gander down In black and white tinged with rust To tell how simple things often are.

Rachel Zempel

rising ball of fire casting golden sunbeams on a deserted town

JR Vork

winter fog in the field rushing to school

Annoj Thavalingam

Salacious hag Driven to the precipice Sanity reeling

Julia Gwiazdowski

My coffee kisses electric. Bitter-sweet.

Mimi German

we loved the sea sings flowers bloom

John Delaney

Whatever happens after you drive down this road, remember how it brought you there.

Claire Van Winkle

The creeping ivy coils around the rose trellis, climbing as night falls.

Paige Caine

The snowpacks melt, early this year, waking the diapausing wasps before the plants they pollinate

Connor Bjotvedt

Icy morning My ghost breath; visible. I'm already late for work.

Andrew Hamlin

You have put me to sleep in the silence... how long 'till you walk away

James Devine

There are beautiful meteors on fire Pounding explosions into soft Broadway Like poison tulips growing in reverse.

Reif Larsen

Late at night, I ride my red bike With weathered paint and faded chrome Down lamplit streets toward home

Christopher Fields

boardwalk dusk December one neon sign left

Cynthia Sharp

the softness of afternoon rain your chair still in the light long after you've gone

Jackie Maugh Robinson

not every day the sun rises twice newborn at her breast

Joshua Colombo

You whispered honey in my ear It slowly dropped into my brain Where your golden image appeared

Giuseppe Bartoli

Tonight, the half moon is that bit of the thumbnail you tend to cut off.

Maria DePaul

Up before sunrise Stillness turns to birdsong Crickets fall silent