Journal

Catherine McGuire

The dazzle of fireflies in the sticky Jersey night the sour tang of mold tickling my nose in cramped summer…

2 years ago

John Muro

Beau Soir --after Claude Debussy The sun is long settled and the sky has been assembled then reassembled by an…

2 years ago

Neal Ostman

Sprang! Tassel-head weeds toss in a fresh wind. Stretch up over rye neighbors, hang out Tap-dancing till they snatch the…

2 years ago

John Palen

Just One More It’s an old crabapple, not pruned for years, more thicket than tree. I cut dead and diseased…

2 years ago

Gail Peck

The Cinderblock Duplex in the Sixties Newly wed with rented furniture. We’d roll to the middle of the lumpy bed…

2 years ago

Diana Pinckney

Daughter I write about her in poems, thinking she can be brought back by songs. In dreams, she floats around…

2 years ago

Vivienne Popperl

I Told the Rain ‌                               …

2 years ago

Samuel Prince

La Spezia Instead, he flicks a royal wave towards La Spezia Gulf, exhales for emphasis and plunges the quartered lime…

2 years ago

Sherry Mossafer Rind

The Anchovy of Melancholy In my vision along the bookshelf Anchovy becomes Anatomy of Melancholy where Burton accuses fish of…

2 years ago