Poetry

  • Begin

    by Jeff Oaks

    Mystery who wanders the basement.
    Mystery who kicks at the screen.
    Mystery whose cowbells mean something is close
    to appearing, to appearance.

    Earth—Silence—open, don’t keep shutting
    or turning mysterious (refuse to …

  • Still Life

    by Patty Seyburn

    The ocean can be so trite.
    How can one escape wanting and failing to describe and so capture the feinting
    one-two
                  punch of childhood?
    I enjoy cranking up the heat …

  • Second Person Plural

    by Randy Cauthen

    A man lives in an old house converted to apartments.
    There is still a servants’ staircase, but now it
    leads to a blank wall. And the walls are paper,
    the …

  • Departure in the Key of Restraint Minor

    by Lisa Lewis

    The car was packed, the boxes taped and labeled,
    and a babysitter played go fish on the porch
    with the son and toddler daughter.
    The windshield gleamed. A chip, thumbnail-wide,

  • What You’ve Been Given

    by Myronn Hardy

    They have given you the name Obama
    even though it isn’t yours.
    The woman slicing cake behind
    the counter        her son wheeling through
    the market loud when he sees …

  • The Last Bite of the Emergency Apple

    by Marc Malandra

    Silver Canyon, Santa Catalina Island

    You take the last bite of the emergency apple,
    while the teeth-y skulls of Barbary goats stare up from dusty shale,
    from boulder strewn creek beds …

  • The Difference Between One and Reunion

    by Grant Hier

    Repeating the sunrise, the chirping bird
    fills itself with the world, sings
    it out in a puff, bob, and whistle—
    cacophony to the bee in the flower
    nuzzling, the thirst …

  • Letter from Dakar

    by Karen Carissimo

    beginning with a line by Fernando Pessoa

    It is night. It’s very dark. In a house far away
    a red sun has drained into the sea.
    From the city I left, …

  • Romance

    by Timothy Liu

    The uncorked bottle waiting
    to lead us into five uneven
    glasses of Bordeaux because
    you are you and I am nothing
    but the cheapest kind of date
    still able to …

  • Prophecy

    by Amy Newlove Schroeder

    Light over water
    turned it brown,
    particulate with sand

    gulls fished in the light rectangle
    bobbing heads, down and then back up

    I had thinking about Cassandra

    her dream-sorrow

    done with feeding
    the gulls …

  • Stone Soup

    by Patty Seyburn

    The note sent home said
    we are making stone
    soup–soup of the poor–
    soup from nothing–so
    please do your part–bring
    a stone–a carrot–
    I sent three carrots–
    a bag of …

  • Beach Walk, 1972

    by Ralph Sneeden

                       for Matt Miller

    Focused on unraveling high tide’s
    trashy embroidery, we foraged ahead, doubled
    back to our dad in the morning game …