Musings
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The Accordion Man
by Hansel Figueroa It’s past midnight. The only sounds I hear are the cars passing below on the street. Even though I’m in bed and feel exhausted, I can’t fall asleep. Then, a new sound appears. It’s the faint sounds of an accordion. I don’t believe it at first, but the melody continues to creep…
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Attar of Petals
by Sharon Israel Artist: Jasper Francis Cropsey What was in his pockets?Among unknown receipts,the thing he left for me:the rose he tore for me,the fragrance, the attarof petals. Pears and peaches tumble downand spill across the table.The moon is dark. I will love him until feralcats cross the seas from Romeand overtake Wall Street,and walk…
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Season of the Drought
by Mark Tulin Artist: Denis Tangney The rain was always in the back of my mind. When will a storm come? A beautiful downpour? Hell, I’d take a drizzle, a couple of spits from heaven. I kept looking up where God was supposed to be. Why are you holding back? Why are you torturing me?…
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Your Body’s Tired, I Hear Myself
by Yakir Ben-Moshe Translator: Dan Alter Even when I’m alone my body acts like it’s conversing.I look at the face bent over its chest,at the hands falling to its thighs,& somehow I know it’s defeated.Your body is tired, I hear myselfswitching off the mirror, folding up its movements.But who can go to sleep amidst this…
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He Said He Tried
by Duane Anderson He Said He TriedListen he said.No one did.Everything continued just the same.He walked away,looking at those around.The world was there,he was there.He stoodlooking at the world,wondering,wandering,across the universe,Look at me,don’t ignore me.I am here,don’t walk away,speak to me.No one heard.Listen he said.No one did. Duane Anderson Duane Anderson currently lives in La…
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Simple Truths
by Duane Anderson Simple TruthsHow can I hatewhen I’m filled with love?How can I crywhen I’m full of joy? How can I not see beautywhen my eyes are open?How can I not love youwhen my heart is open? Simple truthsI sing to you. Duane Anderson Duane Anderson currently lives in La Vista, NE. He has…
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Three Poems
by Jason Visconti Artist: Steve Johnson Love PoemFor your flesh of so many caresses,the sky that hides in your eyes,how your lips keep the howl from your hushes,and your body completes all its crimes,we keep our perfect canvas from paintbrushes. No TalentSo squeamish with his paints he politely blots them out,a circus of music with…
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Cry Out
by John Grey Artist: Eric Kim My hands tear and bleedscaling the barb-wire fenceas mongrel dogssnap at my heels. Every dream is like this.I no longer wonderwhat does it mean.All I want is to wake upwith my feet intact. My subconscioushas its way with me,dropping me offin perilous situationswith no chance of escape. My flesh…
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A Gardener’s Note
by John Grey Artist: Leigh Skomal I fertilize my garden with coffee grounds and eggshells.I bury them gently, like dead birds. This enhances the soilwith nitrogen, calcium, iron, magnesium and chromium.I could concoct a fellow human with less. The loam atopis laid softly, deliberately. For this is not burial. It’s construction.Where else am I so…
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Bacon
by Jessica Hwang Artist: Scott Olson The air is laden with stink and with noise. The sharp sting of ammonia cuts through layers of coppery blood and vomit-tang. Squeals puncture the suffocating heat. Men shovel piles of steaming dung, kicking animals out of their way. Their tanned ropy forearms sling heavy buckets of slop into…