Elena Karina Byrne: Reality may still be unacceptable Gerhard Richter
A Repeating Dream I’m Belly-Down at Eleven
beneath barbwire like bedsprings during night-climbs
Sharon Fagan McDermott: This Against the Night
Sweet hyssop and the sweltering hives
from which sail bees, their resolute flight
into July, into my garden.
Elizabeth Kirschner: Jones Beach
He went out. Into the ocean’s black maw. To save. To rescue. Didn’t, as they say, come back. Death is funny like that, precise, dissolute.
Luray Gross: If Two People Are Aware of the Rising Moon
When his mind grew empty
and his heartbeat slowed to a vague stutter,
our father no longer walked the fields at night.
Carolyn Gregory: Listening to John Coltrane on my Mother’s Death Day
Swirling, confident, those sax notes stretch and blow
above the drums, full of his blue notes,
fifty years ago, new as now.
Carolyn Gregory: Leaving the Theatre of Dreams (for Peter)
Tonight I walk through spring sadness, the nostalgia of dreams remembered and foregone, familiar places where we wrote our own epitaph, misspoken lines and rooms seen in the wrong light … Continue reading
John Samuel Tieman: Elegy for a Poet
Michael Castro 1945 – 2018 while the snow wants to melt winter loiters and I will listen I will listen for you when I need a noun a sudden muscle an animal can use to … Continue reading
Philip F. Clark: Lacrimosa
Where I grew up, wakes were a sparring ground— furor was the only defense to grief. Someone had to fight the rant of all those flowers. That is how … Continue reading
John Samuel Tieman: For a public school teacher
Brian Rutter 1982 – 2017 Today, the day after you died, all I remember is our classroom next door to each other, rooms filled with chalk boards, bulletin boards, and … Continue reading
Claudia Nolan: Heard at a Funeral
words were spoken, and underneath as though from distant ancestors the wail of yellow carnations impaled by long white pins on styrofoam hearts the rustling of roses an octave … Continue reading
Carolyn Gregory: What Remains
Every face has its stories of travel along the coast or mountains, memories of loved ones cherished or left behind the rooms of beauty acquiring their peonies or cobwebs … Continue reading
Carolyn Gregory: Gathering Strength
When day begins with fog outlining the shapes to come, another good poet dead and the prospect of a bad president, in the rain I take nothing but my … Continue reading
John Samuel Tieman: Half Past
for David Falk take fireflies for example when you were a kid you caught them in a bottle and let them flicker themselves to death in your bedroom fifty years … Continue reading
John Samuel Tieman: Midwinter
for all the trouble we go to to get the news on the lawn how we brave the strange wind in the linden tree brave the occasional black ice brave … Continue reading
