By: Michelle Murray Standing On the Edge Standing on the edgeTeeteringTotteringTrying not to fall offIt’s a balancing actStep rightThen step leftSoftlySlowlySo as not to slipSwinging my arms to balanceLike a circus actTrying to stay onTrying not to fallTo fall would…
By: John Muro Abiding I’ve come to this stretch of shorelinewith an uncertain purpose, watchingthe early autumn light pinking the hill-sides and the small swells that risethen pause in dramatic fashion, seemingto hold back time and allowing me todraw in…
By: James Aitchison Beneath every roof inthe world, fear and suspicioncoexist with love.Such is the imbalance of lifeand human discord.Goodness falls upon thegreat ocean of peopleand is swallowed a million timesby grief. Walk away.Released from your struggle,the soul which seeks…
By: Stephen Mead Gingham This is geometrical, this stitchedcross-hatching of order in squares & rectanglesso often seeming to flow even if ironed, hemmed,the plaid weave of kilts given to cotton – this dress,that Italian restaurant’s tablecloth, though the word’s originis…
By: Carl Papa Palmer I point at her Mommyand say she’s my MommyShe hugs Mommy and saysNo she’s my MommyI lub you Mommy I point at her GiGiand say she’s my GiGiShe hugs GiGi and saysNo she’s my GiGiI lub…
By: J. L. Lewis You cannot love in vainfor love itself is its own rewardand loses not its worthat the moment of partingor in the cold embrace of rejection.Love marks not the passage of timebut awaits the final hourand endures…
By: Karlo Sevilla Ephemeral Blessings Dusk, and on the sand we stand quite far apart.Beyond, the sea unfurls towards us, wave after wave. I’m a hundred steps behind youas you likewise face the drowning sun.You, ankle-deep in saline water, wind-blown…
By: Richard LeDue Written While Vivaldi Reminds Me I’m Tone Deaf Most would rather complainthan realize a strengthdoesn’t make you strongand a weakness isn’twhat makes you weak,but what matters the mostis how you use themto create your own music. Rejoice…
By: Benjamin Thorne Parliament of Rooks —for Oscar Wilde A brooding black tempest hovers, then descends.The meeting field swells with rooks, the air groanswith raucous caws that circle the guilty one.Gathered from all realms, the hang-man court,juried by birds of…
By: Stephen Joffe ASK ME ANYTHING before it was intractable how swiftly did it move, & move me? i cage the sparrow softly in my hand – to what god rise the prayers of prey when their stomach swells with…