Journal

Catherine McGuire

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

11 months ago

John Muro

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

11 months 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…

11 months ago

John Palen

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

11 months ago

Gail Peck

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

11 months ago

Diana Pinckney

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

11 months ago

Vivienne Popperl

I Told the Rain ‌                               …

11 months ago

Samuel Prince

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

11 months ago

Sherry Mossafer Rind

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

11 months ago