Betsy Sholl: The Word ‘Swan’ on a Slip of Paper Fell from my Pocket
The wind that morning was deliciously wild—
one second the water rippled like black pleats,
the next it was all gust-driven glitter
blowing the ticket right out of my hand
for the swans to trample like a shed feather
Michael Daley: The Kid
When the junkies stole everything in Albuquerque,
we turned north
thinking maybe Taos would unfold its risky secrets.
Mike Vargo: Getting Smart About Education
In each life, hovering behind the facade or maybe in plain sight, something important may await discovery, something that words can only approximate.
Baruch November: A Gift in the Shallows of the Sea
One night, on Riis Beach,
years ago, I suddenly
proposed to your mother
in the moonlight
Pablo Otavalo: If you stood any closer you’d be underground
Help me dress these wounds with words
Baron Wormser: Complicity | On Alice Munro
Munro has been likened to Chekhov but if one is looking at Russians the pertinent one seems to me to be Dostoevsky.
Darnell Arnoult: Beneath Love & View From Space
Awful bucktoothed eyes flash
beneath Love’s crazy room. Round
and round, come again and again.
Believe in Death. Believe in Love.
Sadakichi Hartmann: Why I Love Thee?
Ask why the seawind wanders,
Why the shore is aflush with the tide,
Why the moon through heaven meanders
Like seafaring ships that ride
Jim Minick: Sighs
How they wallop with softness,
how they soothe with the slow rush
of wind through the forest in your dog’s nose,
each follicle a pine to sing a contented song
Nidia Hernández: Únicamente mar | Only Sea
For days now
something like nothingness is growing
Lynne Thompson: Sleep, Country Of
it’s almost time for today’s circadian alarm which is the same in Gaza as in Glendale, California. But not yet, Grasshopper, not yet.
Barbara Crooker: Queens
Wielding her cane
like a weapon, she pushed pedestrians out of the way,
held it up like a banner as we crossed against the light.
Naomi Shihab Nye: Different Ways to Pray
There were the men who had been shepherds so long
they walked like sheep.
Under the olive trees, they raised their arms—
Hear us! We have pain on earth!
Mike Vargo: Bad Religion, Good Religion
What sort of personal meaning can any of us extract from the current state of religious affairs, which is very strange?
