BRUCE GUNTHER – AFTER PAZ

After Paz Words sifted througha pail of pebbles.My mind overrunby thoughts unleashed.Day and night splitby a seam throughwhich dusk travels.I write letters tofaded memories,to resentmentsand their knives.Words as scatteredas the voices ofmany songbirds.One page isn’t enoughbut two are too many.Words. Voices.Memories hid in darkcorners, behind bookshelves.Wait for them untilthey pull you betweenpast and present.

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JOHN TUSTIN – 2 POEMS

NOTHING SADDER Nothing sadder than dirty snow, a car with no tires, a dead fawn in the water or a man and a woman who’ve learned to hate each other. Nothing sadder than empty bottles in the gutter, a house with a sagging roof, an empty cupboard or a child who’s gone astray except for […]

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THE UNFAIR GROUND – Algo Gourley

The Unfair ground The heart sinks as if on the world’s oldest broken rollercoaster, The utter brutality of memory, memorialised in physical sensation. The destination disappointing the journey, always. And so I dream of the farce of fairground… Ghost trains scarier when strapped to seats in unending darkness. Tests of strength hell bent on you […]

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3 POEMS – John D Robinson

NIGHT GENTLE Stood in the doorway, framed in dim lighting, the night, gentle with Lester Young blowing like a stoned hummingbird, she stood, crying, quietly, not in sadness, she stood in the doorway and I wished that I was a painter or composer, she looked up, at me, her face wet with our kind of […]

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CABLES – Martin Anastasovski

Cables Like diplomatic cables,  the black strings are tangled.  They relay electricity and information,  a lot of which is tangled. Through the stained glass of the separation  I can see people moving about.  Looking inside,  They can only see human heads:  idle, like heads of cabbage in the field. The three recycling bins in the […]

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GRANDPA’S MOOSE – JAMES LIMON

GRANDPA’S MOOSE the wind ripples the water in ways that make it resemble the mountains that surround it.the peak’s shadows overhang the low valleys we fish in.across the lake, green shrubbery hides the lurking moose, moving silently til he nears our ears.we are in his land, his home.we are merely invaders to the beast, invaders […]

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