Author: admin

NEAPOLITAN STREET BY CYNDI CRESSWELL COOK

“I should just shoot myself!” my father roared as he swerved the family car over to the side of a busy street. “Richard!” my mother shrieked. “You told me to take a right?!” my father demanded; “It was supposed to be a left; now...

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ANOTHER OWL BY WALLY SWIST

A king’s heavy robes are not as stately as this owl’s thickly feathered wings. The curves of its beak hook in an elegant and deadly point. It crunches, with abandon, on the skull of a small- boned animal, or a crooked...

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SONORITY BY WALLY SWIST

in memory of the Estonian poet Alexis Rannit Cellist, bowing the strings— touch of fingers giving wings to the sound opening out from the heart of the wood.

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LETTER TO MY PUBLISHER BY WALLY SWIST

for Christine Cote Sunny morning here but nearly went down to freezing again last night. The geraniums on the stone bench we just put out are struggling but we’re hoping the radiant warmth will restore them. We’ve...

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HOPPIN’ JOHN BY DEE ALLEN

For Sue Ellen Pector Another twelve months came and went quickly. Bone-numbing restaurant freezer chill penetrates the house walls. Time to switch on the pivoting electric Lasko© heater. January 1st is here. Fireworks and...

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FROM THE DEPTHS BY DEE ALLEN

After Truth Comes Out Of Her Well by Jean-Léon Gérome. Unsightly To look at, Unbearable To listen to, Easy To avoid For a moment, The shamed one Without clothes Scales up Protruding stones On the encircling wall, Climbs toward...

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A GOOD DEATH BY JEFF ALDEN

My mother died a “good death.” We all said that. She was surrounded by her family — my two brothers and me, two daughters-in-law and all four of her grandchildren. She’d been to the beauty parlor the previous...

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THE PROMISE BY LOREN LOGSDON

Long ago, way back in ancient times, there was an idyllic land called Shelmalay, which some scholars believe was located somewhere in what is now present-day Ireland. Shelmalay was ruled by a great king named Gallamore and his...

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SKIPPING IN THE PARK BY MARIANNE LYON

June of another summer drinking in afternoon sun big bobby hibiscus blossoms against regal grassy field a scene of intricate wallpaper trembling breeze catches distant memory complete with giddy youngster a blink of the past...

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STATUE OF LIBERTY BY MARIANNE LYON

We are shaped by what we choose not to do They stay fear of unknown nibbles them I leave after vespers her vast hand flings a torch they will never see I leave a pulse of need whips through me. I stake my claim in nocturne sky...

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