By: Debbie Tunstall Griefs algorithm It goes like this: punching walls to the sound ofthe snapping of the bottle, followed by silence. The upward trek on hind legs,the ground sliding beneath them. Trek quietly, lightly, efficientlywith smiles stuffed into my…
By: R.T. Castleberry Reaching Through Ice Secured in this viewing chair,slow healing in another’s home,the new year brings erosion rain.Through terrace glass,sweatered against the frost,Hennessy in the teaI watch afternoon fall.Tastes of pain meds, sweet cerealcoat my mouth.Bookmarked through The…
By: Ranjit K Sahu Spring night on the terrace A whisper, a whimper and a muted voiceStretch into the prolonged hours on the terraceThe nuances of a mutiny evolve in the mindThe romances being the cause on the surface Deep…
By Nolo Segundo Enemy Near You have an enemy near you,as close as your breath,as close as your heartbeat,as silent as the grave. This most intimate enemywas born with you andgrew as you grew.In some it is strong,others have tamed…
By: Bruce Levine Feasting on a breakfast of worms A robin hopped across the wide expanse of lawn. The rain, over-night, had awakened the worms And brought them to the surface. A dog sniffed the grass and gazed at the…
By: Rakev Gemechu Glory to Him We sit in a circle, arms folded tight,feet beating the earth like it owes us something.The sun isn’t gentle; it burns our soles darker,carves white lines across skin like old scars.My feet, still smooth,…
By: Richard LeDue “The Meaning of Life Haunts Empty Rooms” I can understand why people listento Mozart, and although he died long ago,he left something much more alivethan a ghost, and I also know whysome people conversewith empty rooms,letting their…
By: Bruce Levine Now post avant-gardeNew directions are open Choosing a new path Polytonal daysBuilding on tonalityResolution found
By: James Aitchison The words inour heartneed nointerpretation.They are the truth.All men hear them,and each must decidehis course… In strength, onefinds gentleness;fear has fled;peace replacesconfusion andextends time.The rush of theearthly fades intosilence.And silence isabsolute.
By: James Aitchison How we long for control,for ordered lives,neatly wrapped days,tidy packages tied withpredictable string.But I see nothing tidyin Nature; no straight lines,nothing the same shape,the same size; nothingeasy, nothing smooth.And I love it! The road isforced to follow…