Dust to Dust It gathers behind doors, the muck of hours and days and years, blown through vents and tracked in on the soles of shoes that have hiked through hell and heaven. They may notice at first, casually, but awareness is soon cloaked within other thoughts, other times, the tired ache of heads ready […]Read more "DUST TO DUST – C.S. FUQUA"
All this Broken Love I didn’t tell you how I felt when you said those things. I will tell you now. Those words are long rides on the highway. Broken sandals. A no-fly zone. Your anger sits on my tongue. It’s a restless bee. It shakes the walls, paints them green. Once we danced to […]Read more "2 POEMS – Amy Soricelli"
SEPTEMBER II It’s September third The ornamental maple Turns, I look away.Read more "SEPTEMBER II – Marc Janssen"
Forsaken I am the pen she left uncapped The one she tossed in the bottom drawer. I’m the line she crossed out when she wrote me off the one she crossed at every spot with every hook with every loop with every slant on every point each blot, each space: every trace of ink ran […]Read more "FORESAKEN – Frank William Finney"
The War in Syria His father didn’t sleep in his apartment. The apartment was being bombed. The absurdity of paying the rent. So a colleague told me, dark circles underneath his eyes. He was working double shifts in spite of his lack of hope, worried. My father said nothing to this. He is both a […]Read more "THE WAR IN SYRIA – Daniel Schulz"
AFTER JACOB BLAKE After the medical aid After the helicopter After immediately to Milwaukee After lengthening up through the crown After gravel shaped like twilight After tailwinds through the reeds After the pelvic floor After a mother tells her daughter, never say the Lord’s name in vain After, who’s name then am I supposed to […]Read more "BLACK LIVES MATTER – AFTER JACOB BLAKE – TIM STALEY"
Waves When the wave of humiliation comes it will knock you down your shoulder and ear will bang on the hard sand floor when you’re pushed down by tumbling saltwater entering your nose your lungs. The wave wins, you are small. When the wave of mortification comes you will be hit over and over you […]Read more "WAVES – E. Martin Pedersen"
After I See Your Post About Visiting L.A. I reach out– longing for connection. When surrounded by seagulls, I look for the first semblance of friend. Not that we have much to anchor anymore, conversationally. Dolzani’s English class. I didn’t read assigned books. Didn’t become The Old Man and The Sea. So many years to […]Read more "After I See Your Post About Visiting L.A. – James Croal Jackson"
After Ahmaud Arbery 3.23.20 His arrival here cut one background from another. Five hands sprung from each of his wrists. I wipe the ashes off the armoire. I light a new stick of incense Morning Star Mellow Pine. He sits on my sofa deliberately. The muscle spasm in his leg ribbons the room. From the […]Read more "3 POEMS FOR JUNETEENTH BY TIM STALEY"
Morning in Watertown, Noon on Quincy Street Green banana, three beeswax candles puddled on the bookcase, bodega at the end of the block, tenor sax billowing from the east, shoulder-length hair frizzy from the shower, anything you could conceivably want a block north/Three cabinets of curiosities here, two bookstores there, Mr. & Mrs. Bartely’s & […]Read more "Morning in Watertown, Noon on Quincy Street – John Repp"