AFTER THE FACT The mystery of history Reduces all to sophistry If fecklessly, not skeptically, Accept we its validity. Did Kennedy form strategy Preventing Cuban tragedy When quarantined Fidel at sea? Or was it serendipity? Did atom bomb need dropping on To-be-defeated-soon Nippon, Because Japan, to its last man, Would fight invasion hand-to-hand? Was Civil […]
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Making an Attempt An enclosed UBH hospital room is the first step to maintaining my privacy and treat my phobia to the outdoors. The second step is to visit a restaurant and eat a grilled cheese sandwich, along with mashed potatoes. I have a window to view the sky; I don’t need to visit a small park […]
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Elizabeth, Mother of my mother, her knotted knuckles cradled my scraped elbows, the heaviness of my childhood heart. Her beauty unrepeatable, blistering. She stands hunched over the sink, peeling potatoes, buttering bread, in the yellow light of the pre-war kitchen she is ageless. When I think of home, I think of her, kindness dripping from her embrace like honey. […]
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In Crowd I discover in myself this startling desire to fit in. As if I am some teenager in an afterschool special or training video. Listen, honey, don’t worry about those other kids. I am now looking for a new teacher than those crowding voices around me. An inner truth to tether myself to the world, eschewing the script, enveloped […]
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Song of America I. I see you, Walt Whitman, an American Rough, a cosmos! I see you face to face! I see you and the nameless faceless Faces in America’s ageless crowds of men and women who you saw in your mind’s eye. I see you crossing the river on your ferry. I see you walking […]
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Room Of Silence Nine in one little room, not making a sound. One working busily behind her desk. Two read books while one reads a magazine, while on writes in notebook. A leg shakes nervously across the room, while two rock beside him. Another two are drifting off to sleep. All wait to hear a name called by the […]
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Ophelia’s Blues (By John Biscello) her sad sea-green dress, an epitaph, rippling quietly, as if in a dream. the small history of a fresh wraith, white fingers forever separating the bones from the silt. Originally from Brooklyn, NY, author, poet and playwright, John Biscello, has lived in Taos, New Mexico for the past thirteen years. He is the author […]
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ALAS – By Elaine Nadal I was told I have her eyes, her thick brows– didn’t think much of it: We all have something of someone. My sister has Aunt Natalia’s smile. My brother has Uncle Silo’s curly hair (back in the day when my uncle had hair). I was just glad I didn’t inherit Aunt Rosa’s squared shape. […]
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Salt and Pepper White privilege it’s called and recently I learned its name although I’ve been white as a sheet for decades. Like breathing and eating I take white privilege for granted. I push a cart through a megastore in bib overalls and no one follows me and when I hail a cab in a snow storm, it picks me up. My freckles may be a stop sign. Not so […]
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A RESTFUL MIND (By Joseph Cavera) After so many days Of laying one’s hands to work One searches the many ways That duties can be skipped and shirked At these particular times When the inside of one’s eyelids Holds the more alluring of charms Than the world around We find ourselves searching At distant grounds For a […]
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