Tag: Poetry

by Diane Funston The once-clear night changesslides into mista lacy lingeriegauzy coveringover full stars Air is still as inhaled breathholds promisesgetting heavywith chilland need Full moon shylydrapes velvet cloudsover her breaststhen unashamed moisturemakes sidewalks glisten About the Author: Diane Funston, recent Poet-in-Residence for Yuba Sutter Arts and Culture for two years, created online “Poetry Square”…

by Fabrice Poussin The days on the beach resonate stilland I am transported to the fiery sandsof a riviera made of near accurate imitationswaiting for the sun to etch a new hue upon my skin. Still a child I threw this awkward shell into the saltthick waters that took me away to the horizonenveloped me…

by James Engelhardt Dixit, Jean-Louis Roubira Libellud, 2008 I am a sculptor of clouds.I am a king becoming his own statue,forming bone into stoneand dissolving both again.My only gold is a ringsliding over a tight braid. I climb spiral stairs that rise and rise,until I face a field of sunflowers.I am covered in Post-its.I am…

by Margaret McGowan In the back of the pantryI encountered a lonelysugar cube. Its shoulderssagged. There were tears.There were pleas. Pleasetake me. So I put itin my coffee, hearda sigh of satisfactionas it dove in. It is important to befriendother beings. Eve kissed a snakebecause it was sad.It gave her an appleto seal their friendship.Snakes…

by Joe Farina does a street have a memory,beneath its many coatsdoes it remember every soul,who walked upon itdoes it long for a return,to cobblestones and carriagesor quicken to the thunderof street cars on silver tracksdrugged by combustion enginesdoes it remember being fashionedby the din of picks and shovelswielded by strange speaking labourersuntil it gleamed,…

by Diana Raab sit in front of a tree,imagine it’s a long lost ancestorwho you always wanted to meet;imagine they have sent you a message,but you have no idea what it is,when suddenly a hummingbird landson the red flower beside. take a deep breath, but sit very still,remove the wax from your earsand listen carefully…

by Sheila E. Murphy Fractions fracture, shift what we elect to think.We tell ourselves that thinking spawns retrieving. Merciful half loud birds litter the street withpunctuation that safekeeps our retrieving. Posses of arithmetic advance towardroutine left right where we left it, retrieving daylight that thresholds innocence, behold ferns,accumulated drops of sun, retrieving what we once…

by William Doreski Leaving the corpse in the road,I back up to the cornerwhere dream and waking converge.My dresser stands there in the weeds. One drawer lolls open, offeringa tongue-full of T-shirts and socks.I exit the car and close the draweras snow flurries mist the view, concealing the accident scene.But a window forms in the…