POETRY: ROBIN WYATT DUNN – NOT ENOUGH

Not Enough

not enough

now

or ever

after the rain wrought

wrinkled

wet

and worlded

the way out

 

it’s not enough

the way you held the standard poem

and read it out

 

the way the world loved it

and gave me the towel

to wipe you down

 

give the world all its bliss

and give me everything after

in the ruins

 

where I can make my home

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Poetry: Matthew Heston – Dear Kelly

Dear Kelly

 

Some things exist only to be seen by

those that need them most. As a

 

child, I watched a young theologian

reduce the divine to a chalkboard

 

sketch. Time is a circle that we live

inside, he explained, and that the Almighty

 

exists outside of. How simple

the universe is, sometimes. I’ve driven

 

down enough country roads to know

what loneliness is, walked down enough

 

city streets to know the isolation of

crowds. Wherever you are, you are

 

small amidst the vastness of the unknown.

I am standing atop a bridge, surrounded

 

by strangers, watching an eclipse

overhead. One whispers to another,

 

“We are witnessing history.” It’s true.

In eighteen years there will be

 

another, and by then none of us will

remember each other’s names.

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POETRY: Yoni Hammer-Kossoy – Scrawled on a Yosemite Park Map

Scrawled on a Yosemite Park Map

To the couple from the orange tent

whose amorous shushes

crept around the campground

long into the night like a bear

looking for leftovers,

I’m sorry if my kids

happened to slam the car doors

a few too many times

on our way out to an early morning

Ranger-led flora and fauna walk.

 

Staring at a lineup of RVs

crammed with wildlife-gawking

selfie-stick swinging day-trippers,

he said: the valley

had become a petting zoo.

Better head for the high country

if you’re looking for something wild.

 

So we did, and found more people and cars

but also endless pine, something blue

called sky, and mountains rising up

with a shrug that said: if not wild

then closer. Maybe it was the thin air,

or not showering for five days,

but I’d recommend the ice-clear lake

I dove into, for once not wondering

how much time was left on the clock.

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