Category: Poetry

by John Grey Lusty, lustrous summer afternoon,the pond air still,the egret is even stilleras it feigns a humble stalk with feetwhile its keen eye surveysthe waters below. Beak like an arrowand the stealth of a spy –it’s a bird whose formis everything its functioncould ask for. I watch from the other shoreas it finally takes…

by James Engelhardt Dungeons and Dragons, Gary Gygax and Dave Arneson Tactical Studies Rules, Inc., 1974 About the AuthorJames Engelhardt’s poems have appeared in the North American Review, Sheila-Na-Gig, ACM: Another Chicago Magazine, Terrain.org, Painted Bride Quarterly, Fourth River, and many others. His ecopoetry manifesto is “The Language Habitat,” and his book, Bone Willows, is…

by Justin Evans One of the last robins of the yearleft yesterday, cutting across myperipheral as I turned into my streetat sunrise, driving east for an appointmentsome hours away―both tryingfor an early start. I made it there andback in time for supper, but I worry nowover that bird, wonder if it found safetyin the waning…

by Margaret McGowan after Tyler Raso The tamper-evident waterFalls onto the floor. We needGaloshes. We need a pitchfork.We need conjugation. M says he will not sleep tonightBecause the fire hydrants wrappedAround the house will give him Nightmares. The water continues to fall.There are puddles in the kitchen. The onlyWay to remedy this is to make…

by Barbara A Meier My shadow, crowned with a glory,bending the waves of lightat the tops of mountains,where they catch the rays in their gnarly teeth,spitting them out to bounce around peaks.I am the pilot surfing my life throughthe wave tunnels where I am refracted,and redistributed, till my body visible,fingers cold in the night,grasp the…

by R.T. Castleberry Rain has shifted west to east,flooding barrio ditches,potholes of patched streets.Wind tears at fuel station signage,jungle gym park, bus stop plexiglass.My wife dozes on sofa pillows,stilettos off, Drambuie glass drained.Her request, benignly drunken,is an action I can’t complete.On our first night,she unhooked her bra, saying,“I guess the date part ofour evening is…

by Sakariyahu Abdulwasi’h the season i started growing roses in my father’s garden, i knewI’d bedded a threat for other plants to sprout callouslylike a summer monsoon. for i knewthe grace of roses is a burden to the entire orchard.i would go to the garden, sip the throatof the roses & the cosmopolitan it’s turning…

by Kenneth Pobo a child holdinghis Uncle’s hand.The Uncle loudly says “You, my boy, will cometo a bad end. The Devilfluffs your pillow.” Bobolinko, who rarely makes a scene,tells this Uncle to stoptormenting the boy—who frees himself from his Uncle’shand and, right at the cornerof Titus and Tarn, becomes an owl perching ona balcony. The…

by Bruce McRae The one in bed while the world dreamsitself into being. The onewho sleeps like a knocked-over urn,moonlight scouring forests,starlight blowing holes in winter’s airs,darkness issuing its evictions and writs. The one undressing after a long journey,a seven-decade gadabout in life’s jalopy.In one ear, the vox angelica.In the other, wind behind a haunted…

by R. Gerry Fabian While there willalways be boundaries,there are no limits.The warmth of a smilehas no known measurementandthe deft touch of a handcarries endless communication. About the Author: R. Gerry Fabian is a published poet from Doylestown, PA. He has published five books of poetry: Parallels, Coming Out Of The Atlantic, Electronic Forecasts, Wildflower…