Autumn in Park We lay here on the grass, beneath October the leaves falling the leaves falling the sun driven, from our faces. Time moving naked across the trees. We lay here on the grass, beneath October the snow falling the snow falling the sun driven from our faces. autumn is parked upon us. […]Read More Poetry: “Autumn in the park” by David Groulx
Sacred Traces We returned that cool autumn dayto bright flecks of yellowpeeking through verdant strokes,splashes of red soaking our eyes.Joe pie, jewel weed,Singing symphony of wildflowerspainted the meadow past the stream We savored our little worldfrom our perch on the porch.Yet there was a void.Our red hummingbird feeder was dry.We filled it with sweet waterand […]Read More Poetry: “Sacred Traces” by Michael Shen
Endings I stood in the frigid blast of Januarylate afternoon. And witnessedthe backhoe manbackfill your grave. The wind had blown the pasturebare, the earth iced so deepthe shovel on the hoehad to carve and chip at itlike stone. And you lay stone-stiff amidsta cluster of boulders nearby,fetlocks flagging. Childrencalled — Patches! Patches! —though the children […]Read More Poetry: “Endings” by Lowell Jaeger
First Lagrangian Point After all this world expands, I still carry you,You and your hydrogens, in the light’s decline.I call me insane, I call me unbearable, callow,And fence my bedroom with apologies.I thought I was good to have climbed this branch,That a flaming heart could do nothing but good,But bullets make survivors, not soldiers,And I […]Read More Poetry: “First Lagrangian Point” by Binh Nguyen
looping floss around the lame tooth
will lop it off, falling to the pile
like loose change—a mouth
is the entrance to all i am
willing to give you. the markings
on a lover’s neck share the mountains
and valleys on my own arm,
i have yet to taste any other part
of me.Read More Poetry: “Inside the body museum” by Andrew Walker
And of onerous monarchs with tufted wing,
Amber over chestnut, iced oak, winter’s solace they sing.
Born to languish where their starry sons fly
Born in the very brooks where they are destined to die.
Some explore mesas in sweet […]
I’m a rock.
Well, sometimes I say rock, but other times pebble feels more right.
The point is
I look up and see your flapping […]
Today it feels as if the impulse of checking
My email on my phone has been reduced
To the firing of a single synapse maybe
That is a deadly topography
The matrices of sensation for […]
She wouldn’t let me kiss her except
in a Japanese garden by the river.
We went there
when snow covered the arched bridge,
the teahouse […]
“Are the living happier than
the dead?” children wonder
when they turn over a scarlet
brick and find a lost Atlantis.
There the worms […]