Author: admin

DOG SOLDIERS BY DICK ALTMAN

You fly jets in one war, I teach school to stay out of another. I oar past the Odyssey. You blow past Top Gun. Yet my dog— hyper, smaller, younger— dances in harmony with your bigger, older, laid-back rescue. Never missing, over...

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CAT & MOON BY DICK ALTMAN

Northern New Mexico On red moon’s night, I pull you from a poem. Bobcat that you are, tawny hunter, hard as I try to write you in, coyote, rattler and you fight the scene. Next day, uninvited, you appear at noon for real. I...

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THE WRITER SUICIDES SESTINA BY BERTHA ROGERS

—to the memory of Virginia Woolf, Randall Jarrell, Sylvia Plath, John Berryman, Albert Camus, Vincent van Gogh, and Anne Sexton Surfacing, the poets shoulder proven tools—Virginia, her damp green bed, its springs lifeless as...

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UNGATHERING BY BERTHA ROGERS

The lines that held them disintegrate like the veins of a doomed tree. He has grown a new skin—his life house is dense, its breath summer fog among brambles. He used to be deep in her, bones protruding from her fingers, her soul...

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RAVENS AT SOLSTICE BY BERTHA ROGERS

Night everlasting—ageless ravens hunched on winter branches. Snow skidding blind windows. I am alone, the poem flown to the crown of the tallest tree. No, I am with my poem; we are cryptic as a raven’s body, and we’re punctuated...

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NOT HERE BY BERTHA ROGERS

Long gone, those days on blankets of yellow leaves. I kept my eyes shut against shame. Today’s Mayflowers open me. Too late; you’ve vanished, your sardonic mouth, the one from which I longed to hear a little miracle. Somewhere,...

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Bus C by Cyndi Cresswell Cook

Like jamming an ax into our necks, Mrs. Gallager shoved her foot on the brakes of the school bus. Our heads crashed against the backs of the gray metal seats in front of us. Our silence was spewing out of our gaping mouths. Then...

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A BEDTIME STORY FOR STEPHANIE BY C. HOWALD

The sky was a deeper blue than our own. Blue enough that the distant mountains merged with it almost without notice. The hills were closer, surrounding me like a thick woven carpet speckled with little stone houses embedded in a...

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SATURN PEACH BY DAMIAN HEY

I first saw you in the exotic fruits aisle of the grocery store as you made your way among brightly colored hybrids, your arm extending, choosing which to place in the basket that you wore like a corsage. You must have seen me...

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FOOL’S GOLD BY DAMIAN HEY

stooping for river-treasure, grocery bag, tight under my elbow, hands immersed, shocked in the current’s cold, annoyance of snipping minnows at my feet — everything is valuable at six. learning pyrite and mica as other kids...

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