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Spring Haiku

by Neal Whitman The Vernal Equinox — This year, a Saturday — 10:32 Pacific Standard Time — In your Time Zone, how about picking that same moment to find a green spot and lie on your back? the breeze a soft kiss house finches lacing the air my sweater a pillow

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Dreams and Prayers

By Joseph Milosch One could see his burning hunger in his shirts, pressed once after washing and once more before wearing to class or on the bandstand. Joseph said, “Books and music are special. They shouldn’t be treated like greeting cards.” The hardest part of college was working at the shipyards, unloading sacks of cement, […]

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Trace

by Barbara Daniels I witness the last snow as it turns to rain. Memory slicks the roadway, the long-washed stains of a dead man. I’m almost lost at the risky crossing. Nothing marks it. Boughs of forsythia leap to light even in rain, even in darkness. Malice shines in splattered ditchwater, also my anger, this […]

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No Heat

by Harold G Grimes III Coldly human a dramatization of heat the noise the gossip the talk the trouble all cheap don’t speak I feel it with my intelligence the horror the nightmare the pain the only real we feel nothing but cold.

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Clay Vessel

by Barbara Brooks Fire’s ember tendered by moss, exposed to air, extinguished by tears. In a Room, I dance with you in light shafts, before drifting to shadow. The door cracks, a current sucks me to dark. Cold air settles, taking me to the floor. I am snagged by a crevice between boards.

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The Houses You See from the Highway

by Paul Hostovsky It’s easy to love them, the shapes of those lives, the little huddled triangles holding each other up on the way into the city, or the ones in the country leaning only on themselves and a silo, head in an elbow on a hill. How beautiful the detached view, how forgivable all […]

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Two Short Poems

by Alice Folkart Date Line The date line is fine with me, just can’t see that far, don’t know where you are, what day or time it is, We just whizz past it. God’s in his Heaven, all’s night on this world. Jet Lag The soul moves at its own pace will not win a […]

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The Way Out

by Paul Hostovsky The way out isn’t under or over or around or even through. It’s with. With is the only way out. In fact, out isn’t the way out either. Out is a misnomer. — Paul Hostovsky’s poetry collection Hurt Into Beauty can be found on Amazon.

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General Inspection

by Joseph D. Milosch Jungle trees walled the sky. The wind was the voice of the dying. It twisted wide leaves in dreams of this Viet Nam veteran. He was in the Army’s drug rehab program. He would help me prepare for a white glove inspection. Dexter took steel wool to the hooks on which […]

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Quilt

by Mark Jackley For my daughter A few minutes of cartoons as we spoon soup, January dusk, perhaps are quilted like patchwork into something I will reach for in my last winter, when I am never warm. In that bare flat, reruns on TV, hands that cradled you will finger every seam. — Mark Jackley’s […]

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Evidence

by Chrissie Burke when I told him about how a single flower symbolizes a dead child’s existance he was flabbergasted and enraged because the substance supporting hope became evidence supporting hopelessness.

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B Has a Troubled History

by Joseph Milosch B has a troubled history. It was composed originally by a mad whaling captain. He drew a half circle on top of a another half circle. He made them tangent and closed them with a line as straight as a harpoon. In the third grade the letter B caused trouble when it […]

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Stash’s Letter to His Lost Chiid ( Good Friday)

By Joseph Milosch In the last dream before waking I see the shadows of the spots of a snow leopard. Maybe I saw them during a medieval meditation. In any event the leopard and the lion drank from the pool of my heart as the mountains secreted echoes of the she wolf. How can I […]

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Signs of a Middle Age

by Persis M. Karim It isn’t the dark circles that underscore the eyes or lines that break out in latticework at temples not the deep grooves that signal the constancy of smile or frown resting on the face, or heaviness of chin bearing the weight of difficult decades but the pinch of skin just below […]

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Variant

by Oritsegbemi Emmanuel Jakpa Hope Hope is a caged bird that sings — but goes and never comes when it is freed. And so too is sorrow.

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