Tony Gloeggler: September
I am fulfilling my one holy
purpose helping to make this guy
happy.
Naomi Shihab Nye: Little Farmer
how right he was about slowness,
the path of sunlight through leaves,
how dirt has always befriended me,
Rachel Hadas: Rainbow Parfait
…to be the archaeologist of one’s own past,
as if the sleeper, wakened now, alert,
was perched at the top of a trench
peering at something shining down below
Doug Anderson: Underneath the sequined day there are tunnels
We enter them in sleep, hang our masks
on a hook and our names are erased.
Gail Langstroth: Two Poems
A split-shadow on the granite wall
shapes fronds into dark wings.
Michael Simms: Tootling Along
I hope you don’t mind my sharing links to my own recent publications.
Sarojini Naidu: In the Bazaars of Hyderabad
What do you cry, O ye Fruit merchants?
Citron, pomegranate and plum.
What do you play, O ye musicians?
Sitar, Sarangi and drum.
Gary Fincke: Hanging the Pigs
The silenced crowd pressed forward,
Waiting for those pigs to hang,
Shutting up their Satan tongues.
Rose Mary Boehm: Three poems
Fernando pushed out his boat.
Young, brown, muscular and carefree.
The birds screeched in anticipation
of his return. Sea lions pretended
not to notice.
Barbara Hamby: New Orleans Dithyramb
And Satan said unto the Lord, “You have your work
and I have mine, but there is no sin the world
cannot hold,” and the Lord, he laughed himself a big one
Michael Simms: Zed
rock the baby in our arms
so mom can sleep in the next room,
hours sliding by like gentle ghosts
John Burroughs: Waiting
Serene, I fold my hands and wait,
Nor care for wind nor tide nor sea;
I rave no more ‘gainst time or fate,
For lo! my own shall come to me.
Sean Sexton: Not Yet the Rise
Those five trees across the way I named Pleiades—till
one more fell to earth
Jennifer Franklin: As Antigone (2)
For as long as I can remember
my mother told me how
I should feel, what to eat,
who to date, what clothes
looked good (and bad)
on my shape
