USA

  • Neal Whitman

    slats in the lattice fence
    crisscross diagonally
    in diamond-shaped spaces
    the vines intertwine
    jasmine and morning glory


     
    the barn window
    lit by a source
    unknown to me
    this evening
    I read Thomas Hardy

  • Neal Whitman


    meditation
    medicine for my mind
    now more than ever –
    the altar candle flickered,
    but did not go out

     

    on the chapel floor
    was an art museum stub
    dated yesterday –
    what lines and forms did I miss
    that could have reshaped my world?

  • Nickels-Wisdom, Michael

    the dream forest at the bottom of the lake fading 

     

    felt       thoughtfully felt       veldt       feelingly thought       thought 

     

    guarded language testing the doorknobs of words 

     

    in reality an analogy that never breaks down 

     

    the more massive the number of bodies the deeper the gravity well 

     

    one neuron to another who can you talk to 

     

    a red crab eats everything and a blue crab eats its own 

     

    the search for the hydrant missing in the desert

     

    a spiral staircase lying on its side where all the weirdness comes from 

     

    whale          unaccompanied          cello 

     

  • Nika & Jim McKinniss

  • Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark  


    french horns
    green the ambience . . .
    forest light

    a fox hunkers down 
    by the river

    the silence
    a little deeper
    in the flow

    cicada cries intensify
    along the fault

    imago
    left within our selves
    not our stars

    like the face now
    worn smooth away
    from an ancient coin

    from the bathroom mirror
    a moment's self-effacement

    the come-down
    from the razor’s edge
    snowmelt

    dripping the excess many
    when just the one will do

    under the streetlight  
    even the crows have
    high cholesterol

     

    Hansha Teki
    Clayton Beach

  • Pamela A. Babusci


    if you
    ask me to leave
    i will
    white dogwoods lost
    in morning haze 

  • Pat Davis


    cupped hand
    her tiny life line
    receives my coins

     

    antlers turn
    for a split-second
    we know each other

     

  • Pat Geyer

    rice sparrow . . .
    picking the bones
    of autumn

     

    as if
    snow in July . . .
    sulphur moths

     

  • pearls before swine


    misty moonlight—
    my love affair with a snake
    between dreams

    these arms left holding
    the skin of passion

    now flakes of bone
    a portrait in the steel
    of a rongeur

    a rat gnaws away
    at my memories

    the wheel grinds on
    whether the stars
    will it or not

    despite all
    Polycarp is baked 
    to perfection

    the play of stained light
    in wisps of incense 

    the holy glow
    of each minim mote
    the dust we are

    subtle accretions
    of harmonies intoned

    a medley
    of nacreous spheres
    in swine swill



    Clayton Beach
    Hansha Teki

  • Peggy Heinrich

    strange, this life
    no parents no mate no boss
    to struggle against,
    at night I fall asleep
    to a chorus of frogs


     
    young I was busy
    learning to talk-read-write-think
    I never evolved
    a strong personality
    but I sure like to tap dance

  • Peggy Heinrich

    he played with numbers
    in his mind, drove a golf ball
    straight ahead for miles,
    but couldn't talk about
    his love or his despair


     
    even before Hitler
    my parents talked about
    where we're not wanted ---
    my parents loved me
    why didn't everyone

  • Peter Jastermsky

    shrouded in fog
    the day’s last hope –
    spent horizon

     

    breakfast for one
    a morning held together
    by sparrows

     


    wishing for a branch
    of my own
    family tree

  • Philip Whitley

    at her touch the river points upstream

    Under the Bashō 07 November 2018

  • Philip Whitley

    in my bed a spider on the ceiling

     

    riverain words runtogether

     

    removing a box turtle’s hiss from the driveway

     

  • Polette, Keith

    above the timberline—
    callused hands
    swinging the axe



    december morning—
    the church bell
    shattering the cold

     

    moonless night
    too dark to read
    my thoughts

     

  • Polette, Keith

     

    the flower nourished on nothing but yes
     

     
    starting to play in the key of see
     

     
    i being the third person in your first person point of view
     
     

    no ravens for weeks the porch light on
     
     

    words ending white sounds the chrysanthemum
     
     
     
    butterfly a quantum mechanic in flight
     
      

    starlings wheeling straight out of the seventeenth century
     
     
     
    sky blackening the crow on the tip of the tongue
     
     

    barking with dogs all night horse in the morning
     
     
     
    deaf leaf trees bark roots rot

     

  • Polette, Keith


    one bowl empty a jowl just short of sartre


    rabidly dogged frothing towards subtraction

      
    a sinister pariah left a left handed drum beater

     
    on trial
    capital letter
    stabbing joseph k
    in the i

     

  • Polette, Keith

    eclipse . . .
    the quiet ways
    we overlap

     

    spring
    the dogwood tree
    budding blackbirds

     

    empty nest . . .
    sliding the rent check
    into the mailbox

     

    rose bud
    so much sleep beneath
    so many lids

     

    winter’s end
    birdsong beginning
    to thaw

  • Powell, Perry L.

    fading light
    another trip back
    to the mountain

  • Pray, Sandi