Author: admin

NIGHT CHATTING BY DIMITRIS PASSAS

“The question, son is simple and must be answered: why?” The temperature in the inside of my mind is rising to the point I’m experiencing fever-like symptoms, a penetrating sense of malaise enveloping my body as the...

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CHANGELESS WINTER HEAVEN BY P. J. SZEMANCZKY

a cold breeze through dwarfed spruce,           or is it hemlock filmy curtains? some surprise left by virgin endurance           acting to restrain drifting waves on which a junco’s soft arrival leaves           a wrong done by...

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GUARDS BY P. J. SZEMANCZKY

What leaves catch, lips press, wind hesitates between burrow gleam wash and tremors. All eyes propped-up: stem-ends hold cancellation quick-fall back from tangent shade trembling below. Here at rest, in recess, we grip like a...

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POMEGRANATES BY ROSHAN TANEJA

Pomegranates are not fruit; they’re a task. A multi-seeded, succulent, red and sweet job that requires skill, time, and a hefty spoon. Their leathery skin protects a treasure trove of juicy arils, nature’s equivalent...

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MORNING WALK BY WALLY SWIST

We sit by the roar of the falls after the hurricane,           the rush of the brook crashing beside the pump house, spray flecking the bridge traversing the current,           streaming brown with the topsoil it has carried...

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CARRYING THE STONE BUDDHA BY WALLY SWIST

I could tell by the hush even walking down the back stairs that it could have fallen overnight. It wasn’t until you opened one of the blinds that we saw its whiteness, that initial surprise covering the ground with its...

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SPECTRAL BY WALLY SWIST

Steeping into the coolness           this morning onto the back porch to savor the breeze before           the temperature rises the last day of the heat wave, we scan           the tree break, eventually noticing a female...

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SAFE HOUSES BY BETTY BUCHSBAUM

Beloved, since you died I’m obsessed with saving as much of your last days as I can by writing you into the safe houses of poems. And by living there with you even as I eat and talk and walk outside. But days, weeks, after I’ve...

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ENDS BY BETTY BUCHSBAUM

Always you liked the crusty, denser ends of bread. Liked to begin by eating an end freeing me to eat the soft, moist, more flavorful slices. Yet this morning, cutting a fresh banana bread, do I want to leave that end untouched,...

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TOOTHPASTE BY BETTY BUCHSBAUM

To ease me into widowhood you asked our daughters, gathered round your bed, to be with Mom be with Mom, help her with the computer. And be patient. But what are they to do with your warning that Mom doesn’t always screw the cap...

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CAUSE ENOUGH BY BETTY BUCHSBAUM

Even when our bodies are quiet as we sit by the window reading, they’re messaging each other like the maples below our window, companions since sapling-hood who nourish and warn through roots and capillaries, one tree so attuned...

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