• 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

    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

    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

    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


    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