Musings

  • Two Poems

    Two Poems

    by Rita Mookerjee NemesisPeople admire a sense of industry / a spirited sort of communism / how the labyrinth tenants toil away over early blooms / tufted legs weighted with sun dust / convening in their planet in service of the one true queen / everyone admires their golden down / but wasps are paper…

  • Three Poems

    Three Poems

    by Darren Demare EMILY AS THE SECOND WINTERI pressed the bleakness of Ohioto my face & I breathed so deeplythat I swallowed old wounds to create new wounds& Emily, she watched all of this beneath a blanket she made,next to a fire she started. I, too often, force myselfto experience all of Ohio all of…

  • Collecting

    Collecting

    by Trista Hurley-Waxali Artist: Sajjad Musa When he said we were moving in, I wasn’t sure what he meant. Most of our friends were demolishing and then rebuilding, so it wasn’t so much as moving in but entering a perfectly designed space. At least, that was the promise that architects have when they competed like football…

  • If My Name Were a Verb

    If My Name Were a Verb

    by Glen Armstrong My body is here again.It doesn’t want to be.I’m angryat my clothing. I feel unbalanced when I watchmovies about peoplestarting overin new towns. My body has been to Detroit.It’s best to say that dangerisn’t dangerous. I’m angrythat the sensuous yet pragmaticshape of a canegets wastedon Christmas candy. It’s best to say that…

  • Three Poems

    Three Poems

    by Anne Mikusinski Notes From a Waiting Roomtwenty-seven jumbled piecesformed instinctivelywork flawlesslytogethercreating music that inviteideasto appear on a scraps offound paperI sketch you outfrom memory and wishful thinkingfilling in the blanks with unsaidwords. It Lasts Longeran image of youcaught unawarein profilebacklitin shades of indigoor melancholy bluea complementary colorto your silver hairand the tiny crossin your…

  • Two Poems

    Two Poems

    by Lyn White RooksThere are just two pieces left.Two fragments of our dreams.Two castles in the air,the remnants of a gamewe playedwhere there was no winner.Like a game of chesswith an improbable ending.Just two rooks left on the board.More flying overour castles in the airleaving them behind. The Stack of StonesThe stack of flat stoneswas…

  • Baba Yaga

    Baba Yaga

    by Caitlin Copland I dreamed of the Yaga.She looked me in the eyetold me she would consume me. I was not afraid —even when she opened the skylightand began painting with my ashes. Caitlin Copland Quietly honing her wordsmith skills, she has recently found her voice in the rich soil of the Rocky Mountains. With the…

  • Mental Health Day on Sunset Boulevard

    Mental Health Day on Sunset Boulevard

    by Gabriel Ricard Emily and her huge teethhad to learn the weird-waitress-in-a-small-neighborhood-being-eaten-alive-by-the-bigger-surrounding-one-way that you can’t just decide to go to Hollywood,because that’s easier than telling everyonethat love is just the worst fucking kind of social contract. And then staying right the fuck there,with her feet on the ground,and her heart dividing to conquer the factthat…

  • Cafone

    Cafone

    by Salvatore Difalco Artist: Stephen Coley When my father was in the late stages of terminal lung cancer — chemo and two operations had not slowed it down — a group of his friends came to our house to visit him. They had been drinking. Giacchino Palmieri, his godson, the loudest among them, slurred and slobbered greetings to my father, who…

  • The Empress

    The Empress

    by Caitlin Copland Galaxies are breaking from your skin, love.Purple clad mystics, climbing stairwell veins,to breathe the tides of your good graces.Resting behind midnight blue arcanayou sit,Venus,crowned in sanguine stardustpouring seeded life over this half moon diadem.You are all things I am not.Holding this pomegranate worldwith open generosity,calling all those in need to drink.How could…

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