Before I banished the poets, who whisper
about reflections of things – lovers and lakes,
cold rain, and rough breath rising
in prairie towns, or fathers returning
in dreams, before that I banned the birds
for their restlessness, and the ache
they … view
Drought: Spring 2017
Yes, let’s date this poem, date ourselves.
Ants have been sneaking in looking for water. Sometimes
I find them single-filing in and out of the antique bulb
glass I have on the kitchen’s windowsill.
There’s an avocado pit poked three times with … view
The doctor cuts me like a paper doll
to source the sadness, takes vials of tissue
for those who’ve stopped feeling.
Too many to count.
He adds something blue.
The waiting room is a weep of concertos.
Elegant against news
Hester L. Furey
They say this was Napoleon’s card.
After WWII the Eisenhower-led liberal conservatives came home and set about installing some of Hitler’s improvements, starting with the interstate highway system. That transportation artery is known in Chicago as “the Stevenson” and “the Eisenhower.” Here in Georgia, we call it … view
Issue 15 Contributors
Akaky Akakievich resides in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. He is the author of a number of acclaimed Sonnet Cycles, Goddess Sonnets and Witch Sonnets, some published in the last year. The Siren Sonnets are also part of a cycle also (almost complete). Akaky believes that Eternal Truth resides in … view
Hester L. Furey
Our greatest sins as a nation in the US have sprung from our desire for simple, ham-handed tales with which to manage the world. What has saved us is our variety, the multiplicity of margins, our collective failure to live in the same symbolic reality, our unpredictable … view
The immense scale of the vast steppe, open vistas and the sense of emptiness, made me aware of the smallness and humbleness of the human scale. The total sensory void has a cleansing effect on my soul. The featureless landscape readjusted my mind and the gut-shaking, bone-rattling rides on bumpy … view
The strangest thing about Robert is how his voice changed in the years after he died. In the beginning, it was the wailing of a newborn infant, always at the other end of the house from where I was. Sometimes, the voice laughed – the happiest little infant giggles from … view