By: J.K.Durick Spine – Xray ### Bookmark by Gavin a grandnephew once removedis gone but this gift,given I don’t remember when,remains. His name written in childish lettersand some coloring are all that’s leftof the moment – it marks his placemy…
By: Theresa C. Gaynord RED CINNABAR Discard my clothes, my glamorous spoilsand fate me before the dispossessedfar removed from my gowns of tulle andspangles. Walk me toward the peak of the mountain,strip me of my name as I watch the…
By: Don Thompson Pioneer Cemetery These tottering gravestones remainunexpectedly whiteafter all sorts of weather—unlike the bones buried here.They’re gray going black by now,blotched with off-greenlike moss on the wooden markersworn nameless years ago. ** Inflation Spendthrift wind strips the trees,scattering…
By: Alexis Zarco SeesawThe rustic seesawof sun bleachedblues & redssat trapped in itsbeginnings. Green wildgrass& yellow wheatgrow in betweenthe wooden seats. Childish giggles& small footstepsechoing in the empty spacemocking the young’unswho are all but grown. ### The Life I Deserve…
By: Jesse Wolfe Aubade Her brown curls heaped on the pillow,the comforter sprawled below her breasts.She fled into her magazine. For a minute, motionless, he stood.Starlings chattered in the walnut tree. * * In days they decided on a baby.It…
By Alan Berger Islands in the streamFrom Cold Spring HarbourTo the village green Mouth full of marijuanaFrom TorontoTo Tijuana HeyI’m not a good travelerI don’t have the sight seeing stamina Death may be not what it seemsIt could be the…
By: Jon Carter truth be told I left her house quietly,stale alcohol on my breath. I thought it wasbetter to leaveher bones behind melike a man. my pockets were full ofbleeding emeralds.I lit a cigaretteand exhaled under the yellowstreet-lights. it…
By: Rehanul Hoque Leaves became yellow and then shed in winter.Scarcity of Magnesium and lack of water turned leaves pale enoughto shed, this is what I knew.But I loved the trees without knowing all theseLike them soared high enough to…
By: Ian C Smith My serendipitous introduction to Yeats’ early poem, He Wishes for The Cloths of Heaven, came about when I lifted an antimacassar on my armchair, exposing a hidden letter. A nephew, my house-sitter during recent travels then,…
By Chinese Poet Hongri YuanTranslated by Yuanbing zhang Each Rock is A Potala Palace The sunshine is mellow wine and there are golden palaces inside the sun. Where a giant is its master, he told me that I was his…