Category: poetry
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Apocrypha
by RC deWinter my life is a grimoirescribed in invisible inkon vellum that crumbles at a touchunreadableand even if it wereyou wouldn’t want to a history of wrong choiceattributable only to pridecarelessness and haste i do not speak of these things what can be said in explanationexculpationexpiation?there are no words there are no words these…
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Four Poems
by Birdy Asya We are inventive people.Funny robbers.Little pirates.I hide behind the bushesAnd giggle softly.Childhood. I read fairy tales to people at night.They are asking.I am stroking hands and starting.I listen to their measured breathing.Pixy. You are proud and admire,But don’t say the most important words.I feel bewildered. My heart is beating loudly.You mentally ask…
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cul-de-sac
by RC deWinter as i sit in the bitter wind of a place I never thought could existi contemplate the nature of mortality.can the mind survive without feeling?is there really a soul, or is that just another comforting fairy tale?i contemplate the nature of mortalityshivering in a fever of doubt.is there really a soul or…
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Guilt Study
by Philip Berry eighteen eyes on me nowlids closinglike they’re ready to pray craters in the wall, bleedingbrick dust, leaking sidewaysin the evening breeze gun spray in a border townfor a long minute it felt goodthe shoulder-shudder of absolute power high to my left a window the size of an eyeglass thick as a lake’s…
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Stages
by Philip Berry transitionsleep flows beneath the streets.streams weave without direction.colours churn, ripples glisten, unfinished plotsmove near edgesready to dissolve in dawn’s pale light the insomniac hears the trickle & thrumshe feels its pull,but when she closes her eyes spindleiron-feathered thoughts flit across the ceiling,peck at her temples – WILL HE LEARN TO READ RIGHT?WHAT…
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In the Brick
by Philip Berry in thirty sentient years the tide has ridden the quayforty thousand times the stone in the brick&containing the promise I setremains unchanged seamless heart&prize unseen i do not remember how heavy it was&what it looked likeno it gleamed it did shine&&though it was dark and there were dogs at my backsilver gold…
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Fear Is Constrained Like a Title
by Parker G. Jamieson September sunset— Please, call me when you get home— backroom dial tone. No—I remember the long morning, you took straw and sculpted a sun. Footsteps in the hall— The fiery leaves of fall— I was there, crying. A withering rose. I clutch upon your absence— My heart’s a glass vase. My…
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Six Haikus
by Hugh Findlay Spring Cycle Black bird, amber weeds red hawk, blue sky, green river sun melting white ice Flow Geese swallowing wind Fine-tuning reedy voices Following Autumn Her Her silver bosom Joyful splashes in the pool A whistling sparrow October Voices of dead leaves Bony fingers of tree limbs Schoolboys sprinting home Dog Zen…
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I am a Lion in Winter
Andy Betz has tutored and taught in excess of 30 years. He lives in 1974, has been married for 27 years, and collects occupations (the current tally is 100). His works are found everywhere a search engine operates.
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New June
by Stacey Lawrence The town pool splasheswith half naked dysfunction.Kids in pink hatsand mint crocks skittle by youngmoms as they flip flopto the parking lot, straw bags swinglike empty briefcases. Earbud clad, gaggles of tweenagersswagger bymanicured and pedicured,American Girl Dollsin cream bikinisswipe glass. This is where you learned to swim,gliding and flyingthrough cerulean water,wet mops…
Dream Noir 