One Poem by Brother Mario Andrew Parisi

Involvement

Throw Jonah overboard, he is the source of all our troubles.
Yet, Jesus holds him as the only sign for this lost generation,
this lost, hungry generation!
They longed to fill their bellies with the husks of the swine,
but then they came to their senses.
They swept the shivering world in a running father’s
consuming, embrace.
As for Jonah, he made it to shore, wet.

{Poem by Brother Mario Andrew Parisi, O.S.B.}

Two Poems by Ron Koppelberger

Frenzied Butterflies’

Crazy, advances in history, in conscious dreams of
Season and fashion, a boundary bonded by the close comfort of
Immovable passion and metamorphosis, the hurry in further forward,
In paths of precedented allay, the tide in flow and cascading
Universes of healing baptism, the turn in patient
Moths and frenzied butterflies‘, a prevailing
Wind blustering the landscape and wild
Terrain of distant dust in the
Footfalls of angels.


Drama and Whispers

The desire in terms of need and real hope, a
Conference bestowing the wishes of nature,
The dreams of forward momentum and sly assurance
In muse, in a fools paradise, in joys of faded sovereignty,
Afire in sure sums of ascension, the parable
Of the spectral celebrant, told by the pursuits of
Drama and whispers called in
Nascent existence.

{Poetry by Ron Koppelberger}

One Piece by Olivia Suriani

Lovers To Friends

Show me your emotions,
show me love, anger, or devotion.
But please baby, show me no apathy.
Your love shows me you care and will always be there.
Your anger shows that we were true lovers and are
never more, whilst your passion for me remains.
But say not apathy, give not such a lukewarm ending to such
a passionate and loving yet sordid love affair.
Yes, come at me with rage in your eyes and fire in your heart,
the way you would if I was so deep in you,
the way you are so deep inside me.
As if everything I do touches your very soul.
But don't, don't let me see indifference in your eyes and dull
recollection of things already dead and past in your heart.
For this is the only true tragic love story.
If love turns to hate it remains passionate,
but this emotion I see in you is no emotion at all.
And this is the thing I can not bare.
Let me hate you or let me love you,
For I need some place to pour out all these feelings I have for you.
Say lovers or say that we are enemies but please
never say the words just friends!

dedicated to Modesto

{Poem by Olivia Suriani}

One Piece by Lauren Whitlock

Cold Hit

Strangled:
Zero in on crime

Throat slashed
Night stalker slayings

DNA links
155 registered

Sex offenders
225 tons of fear

Lifeless legs
A piece of trash

We always mourn
the loss of a child

Thursday flowers
Public order

20 lashes, series
Of rampage

Murders buried
Beneath debris

Technical indecency
Prepare for the worst

Death always went
With the territory

{Poem by Lauren Whitlock}

One Piece by Nicole Jovanelly

Hey Mickey, you're so fine

I saw him the other day,
Gnawing on the rhine
Of a molding cantalope,
Crouched in the yellow
Stale piss, glass shards,
And cigarette buds,
Behind the old toys r us.
Slits were in his puffy
White gloves, red crack
Like an earthquake
In his eyes, trembling,
About to shatter.
Whiskers bent like loopy
String of a birthday,
Pocket knives as teeth.
He glanced at me,
The feeling of sewing
Needles crashing against
My spine, momentarily.
He limped toward me,
Begging for spare change
In a crackled tone, holding
His scampy hands out
With the trail of pixi sticks.
"Only five dollars."
Breathing heavily, my body
Twists, changing its course.
His lips drooped, tongue
Pursed, shooting obscenities,
he spit like a fire hydrant.
Accidentally dropping
Some powder on the floor
In his process, frantically
Pushing his fingernail
Into the cracked pavement,
Restoring his product.

{Poem by Nicole Jovanelly}

One Poem by Jessica Flores

Question Mark!

I have not come to like or to dislike
To hate I must first love
To love I must come to feel

I don't know the meaning of the word love or hate
If I do not understand then I cannot do
Because I don't do I do nothing
But doing nothing is doing something

So do I then know
But can I know if I don't know
Then I must come to understand

But I am left confused
Unknowing what I do know
Knowing that I have not come to like or to dislike
So I then now know

That I do not know what I know
Because I know of nothing of what I know

{Poem by Jessica Flores}

One Piece by Jasmine Rawani

Unwelcomed

I know she doesn't care about me.
If she did, she'd be holding me instead of that bottle of vodka.
I'd kill to get her to hug me, or even a pat on the back.
Instead, she shows her affection through bruises and scars
On my face and body, I know it's just the alcohol talking,
But I don't know how to stop it.
My tears of pain are tears of joy to her; she thinks I'm enjoying this.
She doesn't understand that without me, she's screwed.
I work fifty-six hours a week hoping and praying
That we can spend it like a normal family.
Hoping that she spends the money on food for us.
Praying that she, for once, uses the money on something
Other than her addiction, but it never happens.
No one can separate her from her baby.
She says it's the only one who understands her,
And I'm starting to believe it.
She's a crazy lunatic who doesn't give a damn about me.
Sweet dreams, Mother. Pretty soon your life
Will be as dark as the empty hole in your chest.

{Poem by Jasmine Rawani}

One Poem by Samantha Talbot

Gone

She sits and crys in the house alone.
No one to hear her.
No one to comfort her.
Hes gone for good.
Theres no comming back.

The clock on the wall ticks,
time passing by, still no one comes.
She clings to an old t-shirt,
holding the smell of it, of him.

A picture of them on their wedding day,
still sits next to the bed.
She can't bare to look at it,
to be remembered of what will
never be again.

{Poem by Samantha Talbot}

One Poem by Peter Lattu

winter

the fig trees are bare
to winter’s blast
no longer sheltering
our southern glass
leafless to the storm
and winter’s cold
all bare
letting in
the wan winter sun
bringing no warmth
at all
to chase the chill away
winter’s here to stay
the dark is closing in
to take
the warmth away
until
spring glows green

{Poem by Peter Lattu}

One Piece by Tisha Bamba

A New Life

As I start my journey to a new life.
Full of excitement. Full of fears.
Of the known and the unknown, with every bit of wonder.
I'll make it.
I'll take it.
And I'll use it to make me the woman that I know I can be.
I finally seek out to this world for my dreams.
Able to see everything I long to see.
Able to endure the challenges that arise.
I'm a fighter.
I learn to except the sacrifices that help me realize that
I am in the real world.
HE gave me the strength to choose my life.
And this I choose.
The perfect definition of living life.
The heartbreak that comes with it has me appreciate their souls.
So I listen to the amazing sound of these waves that I will miss.
Now everything rests into a memory, that lays in my heart forever.
As I set off to the journey of a new life.
HE will guide Me.

{Poem by Tisha Bamba}

One Poem by Kathleen Coffee

Metamorphosis, for Sir James Jeans

The solar orbit goes ovalesque around
in Gravity’s grooves.
The sun-disk unravels as it travels
or it would have been too hot
for us to handle.
The pressure of the seasons on
the planet’s epidermis
keeps dividing the world
into who’s out and who’s in,
and whose is that fiendish, smirky grin?
Mister Death, is that you?

Is it true by traveling inward
I break out of
my molecular cocoon
into a world of pure wave lengths
where I shed the alphabetic
chain links holding me back,
words dissolving like darkness
in the morning sun?

Such a trip is as difficult
as each becoming all
or all becoming each,
the all inherent in the small,
hard as base being alchemized to gold,
easy as there turned into here,
which happens suddenly
when the butterfly’s no longer a grub.

{Poem by Kathleen Coffee}

Two Poems by Ron Koppelberger

Crystal Flow

On the grounds of swift mayhem and desolate blood, by handfuls
Of dry dirt tinctured scarlet with lichens and moss, near fountains
Of cascading azure life, love and rescued alliance, the trial stained
Crimson and narrow, secret in shadow, in silhouettes
Of gazing thrush and cooing owls, by the destiny of
Eternal waters lead unto the thirst of Spanish
Leagues in native dramas’ in wild hungry desire, the precipice
Of youth, the crystal flow of what’s supposed
By the gods’ and pilgrims in tow.


Rose Water Dreams

The easy evidence of Champaign demeanor and cool
Gilded pearls of contemplation, of shades in ebony,
Echos of celebration, and earned belonging in the
Desires of glowing caste,
By late evening smiles and quiet airs of weekend belonging,
The everything in all and perfumed mists of
Satisfaction, a figurine in cat’s
Eye dialogues and rose water dreams.

{Poetry by Ron Koppelberger}

One Piece by Kasey Carroll

Redondo

You cradle caramel candy and baby spoons
with your calloused, protecting hands
as we sit, buoyant on the sand.
I call you koala bear, staring at me with your
thick maple syrup eyes,
swollen cheeks, balloon lips,
and wet, salty toes.
Big, you look pretty with the birds
as your audience,
You say,
They want to hear your jasmine voice.
Those little pigeons in the distance,
They love unguided sounds.
You move your hands to the beat of the waves, chewing your caramel candy, pocketing your baby spoons,
saving your favorites for later.
I sing loudly and my words weave a blanket around you.
Wool is my favorite feel;
your voice heats my body.
I give you life as you hold the sunset in your hands,
both hanging comfortably beyond the coral sky.
You smile,
Big, watch me, I’m floating.
I see the mystery in you, the cashmere in your laugh.
You play around with the wind; you touch everything in sight,
pouring love potion and passion fruit iced tea into the world.
My eyes circle you, my prey, my pink rose petal.
I tell you I feel like a star tonight, but you’re most valuable.
Big, you’re my golden prize,
and I’m you’re morning sunshine.
So please, keep singing.
This melody climbs an invisible staircase to your waist,
As you inhale,
the sweet air carries you gently to the ground where I sit.
I sway naturally,
intoxicated by the smell of sugar lingering on your neck.
You part your lips,
Big, you’re blushing!
You kiss me like a bruised plum.
I laugh softly,
burying myself in your precious arms.

{Poem by Kasey Carroll}

One Poem by Susan Suriani

For Olivia The Strong

The flower my daughter,
The streams of tears seem like a flower with dew on her cheek,
Her sadness seems unbearably sad when you're the mother,
And you can only listen while your daughter feels so deep.
How can you make everything all right, all beautiful
for such a tender heart who always tries to be true?
How can you tell her you care like God cares,
That he cares as much for her as he cares
for the tree so tall and true?
Yet, fire season does come and strike the tree down,
And firemen come to show their love for the forest
as it lights the sky so blue.
She must go through the fire too as I did,
and as her grandmother before me.
Always remember that pain when it goes away is hardly
remembered even as we can carry on and see hope so closely.

{Poem by Susan Suriani}

One Piece by Dale Craven

Brother

You are my brother
And we are in this together
Until the end

We have broken our bread
And we bid each other peace
And though we both loathe to admit it
Our sister means to speak the truth
To soothe our souls
And to keep us from evil
And,at night,when music plays
We find comfort and solace in each other
Despite our differences

It seems we are all beautiful creations
Named people
Who celebrate life and all the blessings it may bring
When we work together

{Poem by Dale Craven}

One Poem by Derrick Harrison Hurd

In the Pale Moonlight

If the color of the day foretold its story
This day like a siren dawned red
Perhaps a life could be saved
Because of something you said
A monstrous calamity will not occur
Because of something you were
If you rise to meet your destiny
And rain bleeds things white
You will rest in peace and power tonight
In the pearl moonlight

{Poem by Derrick Harrison Hurd}

Two Pieces by Sarah Loveland

Lies

Lies, lies, lies
Everything I say is lies
“I’m going to school”
“I’m going to work”
“I’m going to study with friends”
I look out through the thick steel bars
That embrace and smother me
And I wonder how this happened.
When did that teensy little lie
Turn into a string of lies
And then a web of lies
That entangles me
Even as I sit here behind thick steel bars?

The first time I am discovered
I say to my mother
“I only wanted to try it”
“It won’t happen again”
“I promise”
She believes me and doesn’t tell dad.
I wish now that I can take it back.
I want to take back that first lie
So that maybe all the others
Will cease to exist without it.
I feel like I’ve let down my family.
I can tell they’re disappointed in me
As they speak to me through thick steel bars.

Then I meet him.
He is perfect with his brown hair
His athletic physique
His medical school dreams
And his gorgeous eyes
Which serve merely to mask his deception.
Everyone loves him
And tells me “He’s a keeper”
So I listen to their blind advice
And I keep him.
My parents are proud of me
And I don’t want to lose it.
So I let him corrupt me
And lead me astray
Lead me right after him
Into this room with thick steel bars.

I want to stop these lies.
Stop. Stop. Stop.
But I fear it’s too late.
I fear that I am trapped
Destined to be a liar
Forever behind thick steel bars.


8 ways of looking at a rock

1
rock over scissors
paper over rock

2
dribble the rock
pass the rock
shoot the rock
score

3
a child’s diversion
walking along and kicking
a rock down the street

4
rock broken down
and combined again
to make the sidewalk
on which he drags his feet

5
carved and polished
a rock placed on her finger
a symbol of deepest love

6
he is my rock
my refuge from the storm

7
a rock thrown like a grenade
shows the defiance of a rebel
shattering a French window

8
“hot funk
cool punk
even if it’s old junk
it’s still rock & roll to me”=

{Poems by Sarah Loveland}

Two Poems by Tyler Merkel

Summer Days

The late summer sun slowly sets,
after a long, pleasant, warm day.
A beach, now empty after as the sun fades,
and paints a burning, red picture.

We walk home with sand in our clothes.
The late summer sun slowly sets.
We walk along the street all alone,
The sun expires behind buildings.

I can see the glowing red faintly,
We walk faster as we lose light.
The late summer sun slowly sets.
I can hear mom calling us home.

Days grow shorter everyday now.
Darkness comes before we know it.
And the warm, summer days, get cold.
The late summer sun slowly sets.


October

October
Falling with golden snowflakes
Creating a lamination of red, orange, yellow.
Taking full, energetic forests,
Making them cold and bare
Preparing for winter

{Poetry by Tyler Merkel}

One Poem by Hope Kim, 5th grader

Stars

Stars in the sky, fly high.
They are your light,
When the moon floats away.
Next to the moon in the sky,
The stars, so bright,
It reflects in your eyes,
As you gaze at the beautiful stars.

{Poem by Hope Kim}

One Poem by Mary Kipps

Untitled

Higgledy-Piggledy
Known throughout time as the
White gander’s mistress of
Jingle and rhyme

Mother Goose captured with
Whimsy-nonsensical
Childhood’s spirit in
Immortal lines

{Poem by Mary Kipps}

One Poem by Frank LeRose

The South Never Dies,

in me,
that sun then
was absorbed through the eye
down
to what is bred in the bone
to this love
of a place
where I ran
to have the days outlast me
and re-make everyone
forgetting.

{Poem by Frank LeRose}

One Essay by Peter Lattu

Poems about Fall and the City

While browsing in the local library, I came across Leaf by Leaf: Autumn Poems selected by Barbara Rogasky and Sky Scrape/City Scape: Poems of City Life selected by Jane Yolen. The cover photo of Leaf by Leaf caught my eye: a long vista carpeted with fall leaves flanked by bare trees and empty benches. Sky Scrape/ City Scape also grabbed my attention with its cover illustration of a cityscape. Their content bore out good first impressions.

In Leaf by Leaf, Barbara Rogasky takes the reader from the summery days of September to the chill winds of November through poems by Randall Jarrell, Robinson Jeffers, Gerard Manley Hopkins and others. “November Day”, by Eleanor Averitt, has the striking image of the wind stripping the fall leaves off the trees like an old woman plucking pheasants. The photographs, by Mark Tauss, complement the poems imaginatively.

Sky Scrape/City Scape takes the reader on a journey through the city from dawn to dusk. Along the way are encounters with commuters, children playing, city traffic, street cleaning and the city dump. The book opens with a poem by Langston Hughes and has poems by Carl Sandburg, Lucille Clifton, and others. “74th Street” by Myra Cohn Livingston captures the grit and perseverance necessary to learn to roller skate. Ken Condon’s illustrations beautifully echo the poems with soaring skyscrapers or mounds of garbage. The poems and illustrations sing of city life in all its complexity and raw urban beauty soaring to the sky.

Both of these books, while marketed for children, contain adult fare. Picture books are good for adults too.

{Essay by Peter Lattu}

One Poem by Eric Pierzchala

Nothing More, Nothing Less

If only for once
To walk upon this earthen crusted soil
As naked, as nude,
In,
full-on-out-exposure
and
hand-in-hand with my one mate of soul—and
underneath the sunlight of a cloudless noon,
so of my imperfections, I could not—
not even for but a, stolen moment, hide…
But then, there ever so goes my
natural, thought,
But then, there so goes—ever walks away my,
primal, hope.

{Poetry by Eric Pierzchala}

Two Pieces by A.J. Huffman

A Nightmare of Ash and Flame

Your smile scares me.
It scars me.
With its brutal innocence.
So honest.
I cannot help but distrust
its glow.
Is growing
around my mind.
A holy disease.
I agree.
To breathe in its light.
And so I burn.
Beautifully.


Consciousness Atremble

Open the space
between my mind
and your lips.
Unwind.
The distance.
The tension.
All remember
the form of forget.
Is hollow.
Echoing out.
Watch the waves.
Falter.
As their touch gets tougher.
Roughly pushing us forward.
Then, gratefully, pulling us back.
Happily.
I will let it hold me.
Until I believe
I am gone.

{Poetry by A. J. Huffman}

Three Poems by Brian Shadensack

II.

I begin to long for complex sentences
a dance of the Syntax.
The excitement and terror of the open
There is no fiction
in unusual ways
The sinewy articulation between sentences
Undoing the vivid


III.

Their eyes a dance of unsaid words,
of unsaid love.
Dreaming of early optimism,
of late lives.
The acrid smell of her wet hair,
all that is left.


IV.

I sit in a world of fantasy.
My belly full of rose water and
melted tootsie pops. I smell
of hormones and oak.
My senses dying in an
alcoholic euphoria.
Is this happiness?

{Poetry by Brian Shadensack}

One Poem by Megan McDonald

Habitation

He rarely speaks my name anymore.
He says it’s not necessary.
He says names are for unfortunate others
Not acquainted so intimately.
I am not sure how I feel about this
Anonymous intimacy—are we
Two strangers living in a common house?

His body moves through mine as through a door,
Pushing toward escape so persistently.
I am not sure if I exist during
This communion of boredom and ecstasy.
The passionate prayer is uttered in silence
So as not to betray our identity:
Two strangers living in a common house.

Does he touch me as he touched women before,
Or am I different, separate from memory?
Do his hands hold the power to tell me from
Another flesh since his tongue ignores me?
I seek recognition in his voice
Because I no longer want to be
Two strangers living in a common house.

I listen for some whisper of opportunity
To articulate the forbidding words.
I will speak of love when introducing
Two strangers living in a common house.

{Poem by Megan McDonald}

Two Pieces by Ron Koppelberger

The Seeds of Eden

Garden rags and arts in shadow, a known wedlock
Assurance in attested cloaks of cherry blossom stain,
A press in pure morning-tide summons,
In dawn’s decision to affirm the sovereignty of fires
In passionate realms of light, a suggestion in genuine,
Untaught bliss, in ministries of reckless
Abandon shed unto the seeds of
Eden.


Starving Darkness

Compelling women in heightened discourse and measures
of soul, an eastern lay defined by the will
Of bleeding spirit and the bruised flesh of saints in
Matchstick houses, a righteous assent in gilded
Dreams of dire contention, driven by the body of
Starving darkness and virgin perfect wake, a touch
Beyond the egress of asylum and passing
Glances in time, in rhythm with the fortune
Of happenstance and fate.

{Poetry by Ron Koppelberger}

Three Poems by Jene Beardsley

Epitaph

To most his life looked somewhat dim,
But rooms within held shelf on shelf
Of shining autobiography.
They would have read for years. Yet he,
Like God, did not reveal himself
To those who did not believe in him.


Astrology

Never wish upon a star--
It has no influence this far.
Stars will always go away
As if to get the thing we pray
Yet coming back the following night
Bring nothing but their lonely light.
But if you still think stars exist
To help us with our dust and mist,
Wish on the one that gives us day
To work stark longing into clay.


Geriatric

Some things old
Cast out for the new
We have simply forgotten
The loveliness of
Until they turn ugly
For being called ugly
And we feel justified
Casting them out.

{Poetry by Jene Beardsley}

Two Poems by Kenneth R. Fox

Love

Attraction, desire
Both must inspire,
Joined in lust,
Mutual trust,
Common interests, compatible goals
Bound together, correlative souls,
Comfort level, intrinsic friendship
Conforming actions, joined at the hip,
Sharing the bitter, always understanding
Uniting in the joyous, so outstanding,
Maturing, expanding, building, raising
Listening, talking, nurturing, praising.


Rio

The green hills descend here upon blue ocean,
The sounds of samba ring out,
In a forest they call Tijuca,
A gigantic Christ statue, Corcavado,
Is perched upon the highest peak.
Vibrantly abuzz, floridly colorful,
Brazilians scurry everywhere.
A mountain so sweet they call it ‘Sugar Loaf’
Intrudes the Atlantic at the Bay of Botofogo.
Footballers pound glimmering white sands at Ipanema.
Shimmering islands beckon from a nearby sea.
This wonder they call Rio de Janeiro.

{Poetry by Kenneth R. Fox}

One Piece by Emma Stein

Tourists

Two girls
fanny packed and panting,
sunglasses covering their eyes completely
hands holding onto their
waists, for support,
stop to survery the anasazi ruin.
they see a sign:
140 feet climb, it declares
in chipping paint,
and turn away.
perhaps another day.

{Poem by Emma Stein}

Two Pieces by Jim Hunter

Unitled

Time lost
Is tinsel tossed
Reflecting silver touches of sun.


Untitled II

Give a gander
To the oleander
A robust bush of delicate boughs
Of pink purple flowers
That grow high to hide a house
From hot high noon New Mexico hours

{Poetry by Jim Hunter}

Two Poems by Brian Newton

Running Water

Running down a stream
A Little Majestic Scene
Water, what a thing


Waiting Tables

A server, ready to wait on you
Working the late shifts
In a small old dusty diner
Cold soup and day old bread
To put money in his hand

{Poems by Brian Newton}

One Piece by Maranda Russell

Finally

Abandoned child,
you left me here
to walk upon the sky.

You thought I'd fall
and break my crown,
dashed hopes are all around.

Misfortune fell,
I let you down
and found my pair of wings.

Now I'm alone
and I can sigh
relief as you drift away.

Goodbye.
Goodbye.
Life's good as you go by.

{Poem by Maranda Russell}

One Piece by Ron Koppelberger

Yearning Delights

The fond with trust unto adventures in aching desire, in
Proposals of wagered warmth, in unruffled caprice
And ready wills of cause, the impermeable smile,
Nevertheless a compelling quality of flowing secret
Anticipation, in avenues of tender yield, the marvel of
Imbued attentions in exquisite amore, in form and sure devices
Of love. The rapture in adoring dreams and sleepy
Devotions, in yearning delights of bliss
And beauty.

{Poem by Ron Koppelberger}

One Poem by Saren Coughlin

Presentation of a Virgin at the Temple

Look at them
They bow their foolish heads
Raise their arms
In praise
As the girl ascends
The marble steps
Beaming with unmistakable glory
Idiots
But me?
I turn my back to her
Disgust
A man being jostled about
Amongst the other spectators
He too looks away
The others look down on us now
But when the day comes
And the little girl’s prophecy does not
They will see!
They will see…

{Poem by Saren Coughlin}

One Piece by Peter Lattu

Halloween

the Virginia Florist window
marks the seasons
now
black cats
emerge
from silver kisses
spiders mice and rats
crawl and creep around
ravens
recall Poe
evermore
pumpkins
spell “boo”
and napkins
urge “vote”
in the Virginia Florist window

{Poem by Peter Lattu}

Three Poems by Frank LeRose

From Profiles

My own,
others together
I’ve seen and learned;
it is better to want
then to have

-the kiss-

for then the cause
is never ruined.


A Tired Refrain

The natural pose
is lost on me,
with no one there to see it
a picture is missed.

With no chance to stale,
it’s another form
of nonexistence.


Avalon

Despair stole Eostre’s breath.

There is no sound this season,
only vacuum.

A mortal wound lives in Avalon.

{Poetry by Frank LeRose}

Two Poems by Ron Koppelberger

Arts of Lace

The confederate crème in sugary
Syrups and brazen balm, an
Appeasing affair in junctions of absolution,
Tentative consideration and passion in cause,
Dignity in divine dress and infant arrays of
Rainbow crystal, the applause in diamond
Sought arts of lace.


Hazy Asylum

Rare, wicked wonder and wishes that beggar reason
And vagrant enchantments insure,
In resource and fine-spun webs of
Illusion. A bidden existence in rivers
And sylvan wild, in blossoms and rare
Sparrow song. A wanton gospel in
Moments of hazy asylum.

{Poetry by Ron Koppelberger}

One Piece by Arthur E. Pichou

Do Not Be Afraid of Blind Travelers

Do not be afraid of blind travelers;
grab an arm; pull
in a fervor
to keep him from tumbling,
not knowing the jags beneath.
A boy had ripped off
red, tattered socks
and begged at a courthouse
for cloth-wraps; the
lawyers breathed judgement, sniffed
purity, poverty; police stood
leering statues,
honorable enough; there is no point,
judging them.

{Poem by Arthur E. Pichou}

One Poem by Kevin Cole

Another Shutdown Morning

Another shutdown morning
Factory layoff silent
A welder's shield sunless
Fifth of July

A corner deli
Jobless outpost
For the bored and holloweyed
Grouped in need support
Reading prophecies
In cheap stained cups
In dregs of listless coffee

Politician rescue
Will crawl around
Hardship added in bricklayers
Promoted in media repetition
As a demanding challenge added

{Poem by Kevin Cole}

One Piece by Joanne Tolson

Treasures from the Earth

Come to us from the great universe
Where we reside.
Gold, minerals, and gems et cetera
Hide,
So we have to put things together
And figure this world out.
Piecing fragments together,
Digging out what's buried deep
Beneath the surface of the earth.

{Poem by Joanne Tolson}

One Poem by T. Anders Carson

An Oak's Last Fist

Elbow curved
in Autumn coloring bliss,
breezes blow the dawn.

{Poem by T. Anders Carson}

One Poem by Julie Paige

Taking Flight

Oh to have wings
I’d fly away
Leaving this life behind

I’d soar with the eagles
Dip for fish with pelicans
Sing with the warblers

My troubles would be over
When they came looking for me
I’d have taken to the sky

Following an ingrained migratory path
From here to there and back again
Procreating my main concern

Feeding my fledglings
Watching them leave the nest
Oh to have wings

{Poem by Julie Paige}

Two Poems by James Webb Wilson

Knee Deep in the Snow Drifts

Knee Deep in the snow drifts
Walking the fields and through wintry woods
Slowing the pace, checking fences
Lifting the boots high one at a time
Across the pre planned course
Direct, point to point, observing
The way the drifts were swerving.

Knee deep in the snow drifts
Watching blue jays fly at ease
While my boots grew heavy,
Walking through the woods
Leaving packages for squirrels and deer
Helping them through the storm
A little kindness to help warm humanity.


Barn Drifts

These were the barn drifts
White dunes rising slowly
Leaving empty channels in between
Long streaks of winter’s face
Tossed in the winds of frigid air.

These are the barn drafts
Shallow at the barn’s edges
Where the wind hits harder
And scatters snow and dreams
A like all over the farm.

These are the barn drifts
We had to shovel through,
To get the horses out,
To hitch them to the sleigh
For a ride across field drifts.

{Poetry by James Webb Wilson}

Three Breath Poems by Patrick T. Randolph

Silent Motion

Cold wet dew—
Moonlight on
A snake’s silk skin.


Motherhood

Robin’s beak—
Fat earthworm,
Euphoric chirps!


Reflection

Rain puddle,
A bird bathes
Inside the Sky.

{Poetry by Patrick T. Randolph}

One Poem by Joy Olree

Intended Fate

Away intended fate, last rites,
Last meals, the new beginnings,
And wipe the tears from my cheek,
Feed the hungry, free the slaves,
Give God what’s left,
Of all that he’s given,
Of rivers that are risen,
And mountains that are fallen,
And miseries born of joyous defeat,
The crimson blood that stains the streets,
Of vengeful Gods, and human pawns,
The fly who begged the spiders’ mercy,
The mother whose child refused to live,
And daddies who drank away the fear,
While ravens wallowed in the sand,
And oysters hide the jewels,
Of frogs who would be prince,
And girls who would be queen,
The ship has sailed the darkened sea,
The demons lair, the iceberg glare,
That sank the hopes of all who dared,
To dream the dream,
Of rainbows end and wishing stars

{Poem by Joy Olree}

One Poem by Simon Perchik

*

As a narrow breeze
peeled from some stone
every night a comet
wandering its rind and pits :an orchard
thinner and thinner
trailing itself, circling itself
sliced like the skin from an apple
soaking in water -each night

as if this stone in my hand
was made from your shadow
and your eyes like twins
coming from nowhere to open my hand
to get a better look
to lift the edge.

It's night
as kids will duck for fruit :the sun
swallowed with some sky
that tasted like water

and this stone no one sees anymore
holds down your shadow
and mine -nothing moves
except a stone
carried one shadow to another
scattering its dust
to rebuild the world, the hearts
Gemini once carried
and every night I call your name
twice, breathe into your name
as if a door would open
and a house appear, you

can't breathe out and the night
cuts everything in half, this breeze
never again two by two :each raindrop
alone, gusting under the ground
under my arms still carrying
this stone and doll-like evenings.

{Poem by Simon Perchik}

Evidence by Peter Lattu

Mary Oliver’s Evidence

Mary Oliver’s new book of poems, Evidence, continues to explore her familiar theme of how nature’s beauty can bring awe, amazement, inspiration and comfort. She begins with a quote from Kierkegaard: “We create ourselves by our choices.” She has certainly done that. Walking out into her natural surroundings in the early morning, she brings back to us poems about mockingbirds, wolves, yellow finches, swans, buzzards, deer, violets, bluebirds and pines. Even the grass does not escape notice and attention.

Her poems bring us more than just observations of nature explored during morning walks. In Evidence, she challenges us twice. First, in “To Begin With, the Sweet Grass”, she writes:

And, if you have not been enchanted by this adventure –
your life –
what would do for you?

Then again, in “Evidence”, she repeats:

… if you have not been enchanted by
this adventure – your life – what would do for
you?

This question is central to Mary Oliver’s life and poetry. She has clearly been enchanted by every day of her adventure. She shares this enchantment with us through her poetry.

Come, join her on her adventure as she carries her notebook out into spring, among the honey locusts, into the orchard, and to the pond. Walk along with her and look at the world through her eyes in Evidence. Share Mary Oliver’s joy in our common adventure, this life.

{Piece by Peter Lattu}

One Piece by Ron Koppelberger

A Cure for the Ghosts

The rattle of greater acts, in claim of welcome whim
And magic pampering legacy, indefinite in innocent invitation
To enchantress eager dance, bidden in quiet
Will and struggling fancy, a wild exhaustion in evening
Tide skills and dreaming gestures in rush,
A distinction in moldering demand and
Yawning ascent unto the indigo frayed horizon,
In pregnant beloved remembrance of beguiling existence
And quaky breach of ethereal bond,
A cure for the ghosts of mire and mayhem, an on again off
Promise to shades of eloquent depth and grinning
Masquerade in ash.

{Poem by Ron Koppelberger}

One Poem by Vandye Forrester

We Danced Until Dawn, You and I

We danced until dawn, you and I

The violins sang their midnight song
And to their cry we kissed and the new year surrounded
Us as we danced pressed to each other's breasts

The wine shimmering in the candlelight reflected your
Eyes. Never more lovely have been your form and face

We danced until dawn, you and I

Later as we lay side by side,
I tried

To imagine what life without you will be
I tried but the feel of you and your smell
And your taste

All came back haunting my memory

I reached out for you
One last touch. One last touch to remember

We danced until dawn you and I

I will remember the violins and their song

I will remember your kiss

I will remember your body and your touch and your mouth

I will remember the night we danced until dawn.

Happy New Year my smoothness

{Poem by Vandye Forrester}

A House Bathed in Blue Light

Suzanne Richardson Harvey’s book of poetry, A Tiara for the Twentieth Century (Fithian Press), is delicately written and lovingly given. She writes with the voice of a mother who has seen her children face pain and sorrow. While reading her poems, I feel connected to her. I appreciate her work, and I recognize that all good poetry tries to “sweep the floor of one’s soul clean,” while perhaps, bringing to light the things which have dirtied that floor.

Harvey creates new and interesting pictures with her poems. I accept these pictures as gifts. For instance, the clever woman in “The Perfect Matador,” “knew when to face the bull/At the instant when he’d paw.” In “Elegy,” “Memory is an importunate guest/ Arriving uninvited/ Laden with dubious baggage.” In “Marketing Fear,” we are enticed with, “How about a trip to hell this season?” The poet is aptly renamed “a giant eye.” The bulimic woman’s stomach is “a starved heart” that is “emptied daily with a finger tip.” The anorexic figure is “a sheet of cellophane.” And addressed to photographer Diane Arbus: “the camera (is a tool that) can abet the lie/ Or lay bare the wound of truth.”

Harvey writes for women, her sons, the aging, and the diseased. She tells that one son was “trying so hard, too hard/ To carve out his place” in the world. We have all committed this; relaxation and acceptance are habits of the wise. To her “Favorite Son,” “the magic of silence speaks.” With age, I think, silence becomes more attractive. “The Harp at Birth,” the book’s profound opening poem, celebrates the woman’s body. For from her womb comes life. “You (the woman) are the leaven/ Who will knead this loaf/ Into the bread of life.”

Much like a novel, the pages are purposefully arranged. One is meant to read them in the order that they are given. I thoroughly enjoyed my read, and I have learned that Harvey is my sister. Reading Harvey’s book, I feel proud to be a woman.

{Review by Melanie M. Eyth}

One Piece by Pearl Manne

Untitled

It happened in Paris one summer night
The rain showered down and there was little light
While I was walking down a narrow street
I bumped into the man I was sent to meet

His eyes were blue but opaque too
He was blind! He was blind! What shall I do?
"Sorry" he said, "to cause you such alarm.
"I never meant to do you any harm!"

"If I knew you and you knew me
Our thoughts might pleasantly agree".
His voice sounds deep and questioning and kind
Of one who has a keen and eager mind

"My heart is not a reflection of my sight
It's beat denotes the presence of some delight."
I could not speak--knew not his name
My face averted to hide my shame.

{Poem by Pearl Manne}

One Piece by Sharon Anderson

Dance Of The Willows

Lithe ballerinas rhythmically sway
Orchestrated by a gentle breeze
Nature's Isadoras
Fluid, unbound, free

With a rush of wind
These master choreographers
Whirl with the passion of
Bolero's haunting tempo

The finale...
Spent dancers
Lanquid and still.

{Poem by Sharon Anderson}

One Piece by Brandon Parr

Covergirl

Sit back, relax, and breathe in the air
And soon we will fix the gray of your hair
Oh, by the way, it’s not air that you breathe
But toxic gases that might make you dream

The marks on the parts which are saggy and old
Will fade to oblivion, like scars on a soul
Oh, of course they won’t, so you’ll have to pretend
And then be aggressive, and then you’ll defend

The reason you butchered your quite lovely face
You paid me your soul, so I could deface
What Providence makes, and can’t be replaced
It sickens me deeply, and yet you complain

That nothing is ever enough

I stretch the skin on the cap of your skull
Over the skin you’d like to be culled
And suture the thread to hold in a smile
The beautiful mouth which now will revile

And though you don’t know it, I’ll now break your nose
And shave off the parts that make you look old
And old you are, and okay that is
But nightmares of past, you choose to relive

Why do you seek the beauty of flesh?
And why do you care what others confess?
Is a slight of the soul, a blemish of heart?
And now I will finish what you chose to start

But nothing is ever enough

Now is the time you’ll wake from your dream
And look at the stitches, the staples, and seams
You’ll wish you were dead from the pain you’ll be in
You’ll scoff at the bruises, and then you’ll give in

And swallow the pills that push the pain down
And maybe you’ll rip out the stitches and frown
On what you have done, what I helped you do
To mangle your body and then you’ll file suit

You’ll take me to court, you’ll hire a lawyer
Your husband complains and makes you feel smaller
Your husband will jest to pump up your chest
And you are convinced he deserves the best

And nothing is ever enough

{Poem by Brandon Parr}

One Poem by James Webb Wilson

Night Sits on the Porch

Night envelops the countryside
Softly squeezing out all colors,
Rounding off the corners of day
Rolling out the darker shadows
Across the Midwest plain .

Night settles in, condensing the darkness
`The solid obsidian mass
Streaked with distant starlight
And an occasional borealis.

Night sits out on the porch
Swinging gently from dusk to dawn
Bringing our senior memories closer
To sit and rest in our laps
As we keep a vigil in the eye of night.

Night closes the nocturnal drapes
Squashing any of our sour grapes
And lets the sweeter wine seep
While we are awake, but others sleep.
Night casts free spirits in the dark
To comfort the squirrels in the park.

{Poem by James Webb Wilson}

One Poem by Josh Rauch

99

99 teardrops fall
Each one stains my face and hands
Clothes suffer one in the same

Deeper and deeper I feel lonely
I only know what is happening
Each beat in my heart is pain

99 teardrops drip
Each one never fails to seep
Blurs and reddens my eyes

Stings my soul slowly
Each drop flickers a piece of heart
I feel weak and forgotten

99 teardrops fall
But the final one won’t
To shed this tear would be hopeless

{Poem by Josh Rauch}

Two Pieces by Ron Koppelberger

Shadowy Flight

Attained in chance and sanction, ravaged by
Rare satisfactions of backward trespass and
Entrance, precise, given in blows
Of distant walnut noise, cracking
In savory delight and shadowy flight.
A twilight nod, uneasy and in
Lilly-white amaranths
Of stone.


Midnight Sure

The design of suffering drama and
Feasting silence,
A shadow in substance and discovery, the sanctified prairie
Tumble fulfilled by the shy ancient
Allay of what’s taken in close comfort and upon
The mantle of affair, brilliance and etched crystal
Beauty, the miracle in midnight sure.

{Poems by Ron Koppelberger}

One Poem by Kristal Flaming

Misleading Alice

Your skin is like something raw
and ripe. The taut
red of an apple
I am not allowed
to bite.

Under my illusion
I think I can taste
nourishment
seeping out.

You sleep beautifully.

I feel you twitch.
Perhaps tumbling
at the beginning
of a dream.
Down the rabbit
Hole. To the space
in between

you and me.

We are a fragile
facade. Carefully paired,
a Goddess and her God.
This image I hold
in my humanlike clenches.

Shift
too close
and I begin to tremble
slipping sobs.
You are engulfed in a land
of contorted figurines
and lucid colorful schemes.

I led you there.

When light
escorts you sweetly home
it’s likely I’ll have disappeared.
For now

I’ll cast a bewitching spell,
breathe with you and wish
to sing a rhyme you know.
One day to be without
transformation and know that

I am loved.

{Poem by Kristal Flaming}

One Poem by James Webb Wilson

Crystal of Dark Reserve

In the midnight crystal of dark reserve
A timid heart must never swerve
In the balcony of theaters there,
In warm aromatic April’s air
Distilled perfume of her mystique
In my imagination become unique
When fantasies at last come true.

There when the lights seem so tender
Two snuggled souls are the kindling
My heart became a master ages old
In a flood so sensual and bold
This ready flush in a redden blush.

Then there behind the ivied wall
Behind the evergreen shrubs in privacy
We’ll share our thoughts and utmost dreams
If Love is all that it seems.

{Poem by James Webb Wilson}

One Piece by Ed Beller

What Epictetus Knows

Epictetus says he will know
You are a good man by looking at you.
Maybe.
I know you can always know a crazy man
By looking at him,
By his eyes looking into an inner distance.
But a good man?
I know more about the eyes of a good woman
Wide, and mild, and love softened
Directing a stranger to the right bus.

{Poem by Ed Beller}

Two Breath* Poems by Patrick T. Randolph

Flower Embrace

Dawn's fingers
Peal back birth—
Petal-kissed Sky!


Walt Whitman

Poet ghosts
on the tip
of my pencil.

{Poetry by Patrick T. Randolph}

* Breath Poems = This is a particular kind of poem that I have created which requires the reader to be conscious of his/her breathing while reading the poems. The syllable count is 3-3-4. Ideally, you inhale the first three syllables, exhale the next three and inhale the last three and exhale the last syllable. The meter is more strict than haiku because you only have a 10 syllable framework within which to work.

Poetry by Darren C. Demaree

Black & White Picture #159

Define the precious
in the stone.
I no longer can.


Black and White Picture #157

When the land went off
the weather vane, took the weather off
the question marking
& slung it all back to the chaos
did we panic as much as we are now?
When all of the air, super-charged
as it is, becomes about guessing
how can we prepare for the sparks
that burn through the low-valley?
If the world is not a rooted system,
connecting weed to tree to vine,
then is it an animal? What new best,
what new burst will come with Belle?

{Poetry by Darren C. Demaree}

One Poem by Jonathan C. Holeman

Unrepairable

Many things I'd like to do.
Holding your hand at the final dance,
and seeing that smirk, and glitter of your eyes.
Tongue between your teeth,
as you grinned at me in the dead of night
over your shoulder, with me behind,
and nothing to cage our lusts.

There was a time when you looked to me,
and the look on your face was pure.
Yet over the years, I'd crushed your heart.
Your will became dust, beneath a starless sky,
and your hatred burned for me so well.

There's never been a place for us.
On Earth, or Heaven, or Hell,
too much pain, and sorrows caused,
some things can never be repaired.

{Poem by Jonathan C. Holeman}

Two Pieces by Ron Koppelberger

Belfry Doves

Into the pause of reflection and storms of utter
Pretense, a careful secret in amusements
Of confession and possession, a nightingale
In sweet songs of contrition, ethereal in bonds
Of unimpeded bliss. The succulent morning-tide
Dew in gentle rolling beads of prismic allure,
Descried as the tears of belfry doves.


The Thrall of Youth

An ambrosial season of wheat
In the course of scarlet alliance and seized shores
Of grain, a tender field of furrowed welcome
Defined by the rare wellspring rush
Of wild beasts and tame entrance to magical calm
And solstice, a serene quiet in the wills of balance
And the attested thrall of youth.

{Poetry by Ron Koppelberger}

Three Poems by James E. Roethlein

When She First Knew a Man.

A sigh
for her husband,
moaning, as he knew her,
her wide eyes, silently asking
for more.


The Flower-Scented Air

The flower-scented air,
masks a road of broken glass and thorn,
and I, the fool,
walked it barefoot for miles,
unwilling to take a safer road,
for fear of the pain of repentance.


Poets

We, the mythmakers and dreamers of dreams,
keep a sleepless vigil
in the lonely watches of the night.
Pacing the floor
in the silent realm of our room,
we give voice to the inexpressible thought,
speaking of patients etherized upon a table
and how she bowed to her brother,
of Daddy; of crystal stairs and the road not taken.
The world may sleep soundly tonight,
knowing that a poet is wide awake.
For it is said the world will end,
when the last poet awake, falls asleep.

{Poetry by James E. Roethlein}

Two Poems by Emily Deardorff

The Home, Seeking Shelter

We are proud of our heat. The desert's clatter of bone. We disagree
with your island--who needs that much water? The point

was not to lose teeth, you see, but to chew dirt and dig
a home for your sorrow's many rooms.

The dogs know this, and burrow down.
But we lose sight of things:

The summit, with the mountain underfoot.
The rain, with a river overhead.
The hot, with no horizon but the blue that the eye
bends back.

A fit started by a vibrant sound, and you like a fitful child suddenly distracted by a spoon catching light. You'll have to be weary and never winded. You'll have to find
a door for your regret and trust--

It's the house I lived in once and, I won't lie, still run to
every day.


Dishes in the Sink

And I suppose you're starved,
and from there the soul would tread softly to

break whatever silence, to admit a bit of bread or milk, and next

the doctor said glow
but you heard go

and did, the hunger of the week
worn in your face. So weakened, you might not have

the strength to seize each moment as it comes, or battle sick-nursing abundance when it's knock-knocking

at your door. He'll ask
for only what he needs. Which is to say

everything.

{Poetry by Emily Deardorff}

Two Pieces by Hanna Leiter

The Colors

All the colors blend in together
Colors that wouldn't go good together
Go good now with others mixed in
Different colors show different emotion
An explosion of color and emotion


Alex

Small, Little, Baby, only six and a half weeks old
All your cries make me sad, but they make me want to smile
And laugh at the same time because of all the cute little faces
you make, so cute

{Poetry by Hanna Leiter}

One Piece by Mitchell Cawley

In Shadow

You always said it was best
To leave it alone

They always said, you never know
What you have till it's gone.

My head follows orders,
My hearts only hand,
As the current flows,
Forever moves the sand.

You put me up to pull me down
How can it be?

The channels run together,
Connecting us as they can,
As the current flows,
Forever moves the sand

If you're going to drown me,
Don't take your hands away
Just leave me there
Forever moves the sand.

{Poem by Mitchell Cawley}

Two Poems by Linda Surratt Troxler

Escaping the Attic

Call me no name other than my own:
Woman –
hear how the sound of it rises and swells like ocean waves—
or else leave me nameless.
Do not call me Bertha, because you think it suits.
Call me Antoinette –
bold, full of life,
wearing red because it deepens the color of my eyes.
Call me Edna –
walking through Kentucky wheat.
Call me Jennifer –
stitching a legacy of tigers.
Call me no other name but mine,
because I have opened my arms,
leaving my attic tower –
not lending the use of my hair –
capturing wind, sun, sky, sea,
winging upward toward the sound of my solitary name.


Crossing into the Wild

I only need to take a few steps
off my front porch
to cross into the wild.

Some ladies,
dressed in cool linen and silk,
sip iced tea in glass sunrooms;
but I spend early summer mornings
and late balmy evenings
mowing wild grass,
wishing for a Ballentyne lawn:
cultivating wild daisies and
dandelions instead.
Tossing fallen brown pinecones
into the wood’s edge,
tugging honeysuckle vines
entangled in underbrush,
taking breaths of sweet perfume
as I pull at stubborn roots,
cutting green life short.

Pricking my finger on a briar bush thorn,
I wait on a prince
to break the spell
as I sleep in old white tennis shoes,
with no laces,
tainted red with clay
and bloodstained leather gloves
that reek of mown grass and gasoline.
Sweat trickling down my forehead
mixes with tears as I
cross into the wild
once more,
footprints leading to the middle
of the wooden bridge in the backyard,
then no further.

{Poetry by Linda Surratt Troxler}

One Piece by Emilie Dec

Megan

She danced as if she was the only one in the room.
Nothing could stop her.
With her short blonde hair and soft yellow dress.
All eyes were on her.
Look at her.
It's her time to shine.
Not yours,
Not mine.
Let her be.
Step back, take a look
At her beauty,
And what she has made you be.
She is gone now,
But we will see her again.
Now that she is free,
She can go in peace.

{Poem by Emilie Dec}

One Poem by Amanda Bernard

Longer

The cool breeze blowing through the trees
The smell of lilacs brush my nose
The only sound coming from the far off crickets
As we swing in the violet glow of the moon
The stars dancing overhead
As the clouds roll by
This is a perfect night with you by my side
Lightning bugs dance over the horizon
I don't want this night to end
I don't want to lose my best friend
You'll be leaving tomorrow
As the sky turns pink
And the sun begins to rise
I lay my head on your shoulder
Holding on for a little longer.

{Poem by Amanda Bernard}

One Poem by Matthew Allen

A Sunny Transition

In a circle that continues,
another cycle comes.
From white-brick walls
To open air and fields.
Water splashed from house to house,
People reveling in the freedom,
Exulting in everything.
With a boundless energy never abating
And nothing on our minds;
We shout
We sing
We dance
We play,
For summer's here
And there's only air;
Only air between us and an adventure.

{Poem by Matthew Allen}

One Piece by Heather Luthy

The Wait

Walkin up
First in line
Glove in hand
Cap on
And the jersey
Your childhood favorite
You get there
The cold iron gate
Between you
And the field
The line
Starts to grow
You hear a
Dull roar
The music starts
Glad you're in front
You will beat them
You will be first
To the field
The autograph
Is as good as yours

{Poem by Heather Luthy}

One Piece by Robert Urich

My Blood Runs Black

Written beliefs, they manifest
They appear through me,

oozing from my palms,
like stigmata

I rip off my skin to find the
blood has been replaced
by ink

From my pocket I take a tool to write,
and I dip it in, on the inside

"This pen is where
these words
live"

I said.

I will dip the pen.
I will dip it again.

And again.
And again.

Until my ink
runs
out

{Poem by Robert Urich}

One Poem by Alexandria King

Wind Knocks My Window

Wind knocks at my window
With its cold and shallow blows
Against the wet, frosty glass
And it sends its wails, shrills and silhouettes
Across my bedroom wall
As I find it hard to slumber
With the bizarre sounds
The wind composes at night
The shadows move stealthily closer
To my puny blue bed
Ready to devour me whole
And spit me out in another dimension
A world more diverse than mine
So I turn on the light to frighten
The fiends away as I yell
For mother who says its all right
It was just a nightmare and tucks
Me back into bed
Sending the demons away
And telling me to go to sleep
And I close my eyes once more
To the wind that knocks on my window

{Poem by Alexandria King}

One Piece by Daniel Colgin

Embrace This

Freedom of mind is something you'll find that
helps you with time in a dark place like this.
The dark is so dark that the beginning will mark
the way you should come back to the original start.
All of us closets stacked full of boxes
filled with happy and hurtful felings all in a row.
Don't you remember all the things you have lived?
For a single drop of happiness how much did you give?
Do you have anything to show besides your unopened box,
the closets, the closed doors with tamper proof locks?
At some point you will open all the things you once knew,
and until that day comes there are things you must do.
You must free your mind of all locks and doors,
you must burn all your boxes all stacked on the floors.
It may seem impossible and unimportant right now,
still you must do it to be free of all space,
then your mind is your own and that you'll embrace.

{Poem by Daniel Colgin}

One Piece by Dennis Herrell

Dust Child

The wind settles.
Small man-child sits
calm as the dust under his body,
cups soft warmness in his hand.
Broken earth sifts between fingers,
falling in plumed dribbles
over legs crossed in repose.

He watches the ways of dust
as each handful caresses
his legs like shattered feathers,
then wisping on dead smoothness
the face fallen by his knee,
still face, whose eyes like the dust
rest upon the child.

{Poem by Dennis Herrell}

One Poem by Noelle Dunn

Costume of Concern

You can not see that which you are
as you exist in a petri dish
a mere specimen for those self proclaimed scientists
who claim to know, as they diagnose and examine you
through a microscope of culturally rigid eyes,
under this so called costume of concern,
and the guise of God (good),
the need to know and the obsession to
de-compartmentalize your frame
to make sense of the senseless
resisting the truth by calling names
and placing undue labels by and out of the refusal
to accept that which you are

{Poem by Noelle Dunn}

One Poem by Joshua Kreis McTiernan

The Class

for those herein described: "many thanks"

You can’t expect me to teach when
I’ve been reading Thanatopsis in the bath tub.

My mind flows to class where there’s
Cameron, with the afghan straight hair,
bones brittle, discarded twigs;
Maisaa, smile hung dutifully from the ears;
Angel, his roman-romantic curls,
drowsy with fourth period.

I finger Thanatopsis

and Bryant quietly approaches the lectern,
his chin wrapped in fingers, one straying
to the mouth to remind me that
the chemicals will unbalance,
ventricles will buckle, and
cells clump and clog, collapsing
exhausted,
one holding another. This is the best we can hope for.
And every parent, he says, still sees their men and women
through cradle-vision: doughy, squashed down to
tiny fingers and toes untried, untested,
unready.

The twigs we’ll bundle and bury
with few words. The smile will dangle, choke.
The curls will fall and energy
disappear. Not destroyed, merely
transferred.

Do they see in me
the look I bring to class, clutched close
like an ill-tempered child?
The cold bath water soaks
through my skin. I drip Thanatopsis.
I drain it.

No lecture. No assignment. I cannot teach
the dead to stay that way, nor the living
[and so bright: twigs and smile and curls]
to accept indescribable non-existence. In time
we get to that uneasy understanding
alone. We read it in shivers,
in blue lips after bath time,
in hair clumped heavy in defeat
and the little pulls from that perpetual gray Sunday
in Lincoln Park. I think,

‘What will I say to them then?
What will I say when they slouch through
the trail I expect to blaze,
their hair cropped closer perhaps,
wrinkles like fingers
cupping the sockets, age weary child born fat
or femur thin from some new-shaken-off disease?’
And will they be surprised to see that
once again we’ve been tossed together
with no lesson plan?

{Poem by Joshua Kreis McTiernan}

One Piece by Natalie Williams

Cream Tears

She pastes on her finery
Plastic hose and diamond white
She is the night

Her pearls are cream tears
Sugared by her losses
She glosses over

She's trapped in the mirror
Can you hear her?
She’s breaking a liquid turn

{Poem by Natalie Williams}

Two Poems by Ron Koppelberger

Nightfall Bloom

Surely the dear design of echoing excitement
And the means to rush a sinew and bone
Alliance with the consummation of ash and tender
Sparks of need,
Define a possible parable in
Pews of well washed nightfall bloom told by the
Wonder of conceived blood.


Sunshine at Night

Remembered by the courtesy of twilight
Assurance in owl cooing echos of dusky
Advance and cool airs in firefly dance, a
Charge in wisdom of wrangled wishes
For the dreamy phantasms of sleeping darkness
And wan sunshine at night.

{Poetry by Ron Koppelberger}

One Poem by Kent Miller

The Legend of Her Soul

She stands out like a raven
on dark love on twilight's beach
her imagination is her wing
her heart a moonesque guide
luminating her hunt
a tender, passionate light
her lips breath a scented truth
her breasts sweet pillows of desire
she's a huntress in search of meaning
in beauty she's already attired
she stands at the edge of the water
feels the waves lap her toes
she disrobes her black blouse and pants
she swims naked embraced by the ocean
baptized by nature in her quest for harmony
kissed by the dream of a lover
in eros' rapturous rythmn she'll move towards gentle maddness
where her perception will blossoom and grow
in poetry she becomes a movement
a union between mind and earth
she surrenders to the sun and moon mantra
the vibrates through the legend of her soul.

{Poem by Kent Miller}

One Poem by Robert Watson

A Picture of a Man

It’s a cold night
I’m walking along
All is dark and quiet
In the distance I see some light

It’s a small dinner on the corner
I draw nearer to it
I witness a bar keep attending to a couple
And a man in the corner keeping to his own

Where I stand I hear nothing
Nothing at all
But I can almost hear the banter
The banter within

I just stand there cold
With the wind touching
The back of my neck
And I stand there numbed

I think back to the events of today
Today was one of my days off
From the dead end career I posses
The day was brief and empty

And my nights off are just the same
Tonight I walk the town looking for a moment

And this moment I love

It captures a piece of me
It shows a man in love
Enjoying the moments he shares
A picture that was once my past
Then I see the man
At the edge of the bar
Alone and to him self
Lost in his mind

Now I am afraid.
Who will walk into the dinner next?

Who am I going to be?
Where am I going?

{Poem by Robert Watson}

One Piece by Nancy Keating

Annuals

I don’t plant annuals.
Evanescent as my sexiest ex-lovers,
gone like daydreams,
total waste of calories.
Nana put in pansies every year
(see the happy little faces)
Petunias too
(they’re just so sweet)
In her 15-foot yard in Queens.
Annuals don’t last
but I see no harm in sweet
happy faces. And Nana had
some way with annuals;
how many years is it now?

{Poem by Nancy Keating}

Two Poems by Annika Hodges

I’m Gonna Shoot High

I'm Gonna Shoot High
I know I’ll fall down
And I might just die
But I’m going to try

Follow your dream
As impossible as it might seem
Do not fear
You know you’ll Get there

When you fall down
Get back up
Because the sky is the limit
And your dreams will come true


The Ingredients of Friendship

Always knowing how your friend feels
Is part of the friendship wheel.

Loving her through all her faults
Helps your friendship to never halt

Being there for her
Is just what she needs

This is more than
Just a good deed.

{Poetry by Annika Hodges}