Why Are the Dead So Still – By Fern G. Z. Carr Arms crossed, lying motionless in an open casket, he gazes upward through closed eyelids. Maybe if I look hard enough I’ll see him flinch or wriggle his nose at the acrid smell of incense rising from the censer; holy water is sprinkled on his body – it […]
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AFTER PARTY (By John Biscello) She, Lazarus, back from the dead, with a musical vengeance— A beat, Christ, please, she asks of her martyred D.J., half-light, half-man, and out climbs her voice, grinding through rubble, a dark velvet toy wound up for centuries, released, on behalf of every last blue girl, unannounced, notes from underground unfurling a cortege of […]
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Poem By SIMON PERCHIK * This field has so many lips and though the fire is out these clouds still darken –each breath overflows with icy streams and stones left out to dry –it’s natural for a sky to let itself in the way your shadow on impulse looks down and in the open grieves with the only […]
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JUST FOR KICKS (By Joseph Cavera) There once was a fool named Scott, Who enjoyed kicking things a lot To his surprise, He met his demise, When he kicked a meteor that was still hot
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TONIGHT’S EARLY MORNING I open my window in the middle of tonight’s Early morning after the nightly thunderstorms To hear the cry of a lone bird flying through the fog And looking for a place safe and dry, his wings Weighted down with water and sleepiness The way I am weighted down with the memories Of her laughter […]
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The Cross Near the Edge A too small cross in a big wayside shrine amidst the fields on the fertile loess soil, soon to be devoured by the bucket wheel excavator, a monstrous word for an even more monstrous machine. The shrine made of dark red brick, plain, simple, solid, almost for eternity, like the many farmhouses here; […]
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FRANKFURT PIG (By Joseph Cavera) There once was a pig from Frankfurt, Who found he had grime on his shirt, He believed neither eye As he sullied a silk tie After spending a day, or two, in the dirt Now our dear friend had a quandry “How could such pure muck come upon me?” I can’t go wrong […]
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LEONID (By Joseph Cavera) the soul lays here in this grim place demons rear I can’t stand the pace this Mad mien dampens the soul perhaps the cause of this pandemic hole and although juts through the tailpipe of every last jenny and john uncertainty of right- and wrong they cannot feel anything like this not now, […]
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Photography – Farmland (By Melissa R. Mendelson)
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