Sunday in Her Garden
Black opals shining in sunlight, jewelry she wears like a name. Is there a spell she could say, she wonders, that would have his love last? He gets close but grows elusive, wild cherry tastes fading fast, prisms of color, scents mingle with roses. She feels her heart shine on him like sun rays going out- ward, always giving to him, risks she always takes with him, for him. Hot stones, rocks, under bare feet tear at her, hold her back—retreat. The sweet pea scent of the air floats softly through her hair; she prays, hushed prayers, his name often on her...
Read MoreMeeting Alice Mary
I can recall the moment I passed from childhood into adolescence. I was sitting in my sixth-grade classroom, working on my mathematics drill, when one of those messengers from the office entered the room. She was a student my age, and I noticed something about her. Those excrescences I associated with grown-up women were there and quite prominent. And the mere contemplation of her bodily features was having an odd effect on me. It took me twenty years to realize this was the worst moment of my life — for I had entered a battle of sorts, one I was doomed to loose, even when I thought I was...
Read MoreYou Know How Women Are
The streets were empty. Even the moon and stars were tucked away on a frigid Maine night in January of 1969. The darkness was broken by light from a single window of a lone house at the end of a short, dirt road. The wind howled and tossed handfuls of snow into the air as a solitary person trudged slowly along, buried in his coat. The scene was one that John had experienced many times before. He was back in his home town now, and despite the weather, he was enjoying himself. He softly sang the familiar radio ad he heard again today; “chez McDonald’s, on fait tout ca pour...
Read MoreTaking It In Almost
Didn’t you just catch yourself almost tipped too far to jerk back? Just— almost—like Li Bai out of his boat, reaching for the moon’s reflection, just that one embrace? It’s nailing Jello in place. It’s hugging clouds. It’s finding that Brigadoon instant again. Look, over there. This time, lean in. No. Lean out . ....
Read MoreFeatured Works: Week of June 1 (Early Summer)
As the days grow warmer and the last vestiges of Spring disappear from even the coldest parts of the Northern Hemisphere, our contributors take us through the transition from Spring to Summer. “High Mountain Melt in Wyoming,” a poem by Larsen Bowker, encapsulates a boy’s experience of spring freedom. “Molted,” a haiku by Donald Gaither, depicts a common sight in North America over summertime. “Particles of Me,” a poem by John Szabo, intertwines the cycle of life with rich summer beach imagery. “Lingering Scent of the Divine Light,” a poem...
Read MoreLingering Scent of the Divine Light
for Agnethe and Jorgen For two minutes that felt like all of my life, after lunch with friends on the Serena stone terrace of an ancient farmhouse near Siena…soft syllables of voices floating on languid Tuscan light…all my desire to know surrendering to the hymnic drowse of Cicadas in the long grass…all thought buried in the Bells of Buonconvento rising from the valley below…brown- eyed Sunflowers chasing the sun that saturates everything in its color…the mind sliding away on revenant waves of unbound light and the stillness of love that multiplies the self, embracing me like some...
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