Elizabeth Romero: Happiness
I live in a pink truck at the edge of the sky.
Leonore Wilson: Three Poems About the Fires
their beaks held
tiny morsels of tenderness
as if they were ripped
from temple vaults…
John Zheng: Just Like Oz
George Drew, a prolific poet of 9 poetry collections and 2 chapbooks, delights the reader with a new book, a collection of essays about his favorite poets whom he calls the wizards with magical talent.
Video: Urban Oasis – a love letter to San Francisco
A journey through the contrasting urban and natural spaces within San Francisco’s 49 square miles.
Yahya Frederickson: Duqq
I believe only the desert
can know the aridity
of cardamom, coffee, and ginger.
Susan Kelly-DeWitt: Photograph of Your Father Sewing Needlepoint At Precinct Headquarters, 1956
tugging the yarn taut, as though it was
the most natural thing
in the world for a burly
detective, a tough Irish cop
Jose Padua: What I’m Reading
History is layered, full of bones and ghosts, herself a storm of beau- tiful, frightening talent.
Christine Rhein: People used to ask
my father for advice — how to fix
a chimney crack,
a sagging porch, how to realign
a patio — bricks upheaved
Lasse Söderberg: The sky over Fresnes
All winter I have walked
on empty streets and thought that the sky
looked like a damp rag that someone
desperately presses to a mouth
Walt Whitman: Come Up from the Fields Father
Open the envelope quickly,
O this is not our son’s writing, yet his name is sign’d,
O a strange hand writes for our dear son, O stricken mother’s soul!
Umit Singh Dhuga: Three poems
We were huddled by the Campbell House bar
on the penultimate Monday of July
downing pint after pint of tepid water.
My first reading sober, your last one alive.
Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer: Embracing the Mess
I like it best when the memories are everywhere—
and I stumble over the ghosts of wooden train tracks,
trip on the spot where you used to do push-ups
Mike James: Reasons to Mumble
Because some vowels must be exhaled quietly
Carol Frost: Scorn
How had they not been wounded? And wounded they’d convalesced in the same rooms
and bed.
