Vox Populi

A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature

Paul Christensen: Ghosts and Memories

It’s the place where the dead are sleeping, barely breathing in the moist black earth along the creek. They will rise when the time comes, and ask the living for a candle, perhaps a dish with a cookie on it.

October 13, 2019 · 1 Comment

Sharon Fagan McDermott: Halloween, Pittsburgh

such tender ghosts with their small hands reaching into bowls and baskets, so much that’s wrapped in shine even in the rain, even after disaster, even as the adults bury … Continue reading

November 2, 2018 · 2 Comments

Al Maginnes: The Skeleton Parade

Old legend whispers them, bent-backed, crook-kneed from the nest of their military graves in the low-ground cemetery by the river. They hobble a clacking cadence whose time no mortal can … Continue reading

October 31, 2018 · 1 Comment

Deborah Bogen: October

A train pulls into the station. Passengers break like billiard balls, glide to cars and uses. Ezekiel the pushcart vendor hawks his hot potatoes. This is the month of the … Continue reading

October 3, 2018 · Leave a comment

Arlene Weiner: John of the Lamp

John of the lamp, poor fellow, you’re quite unstrung. Cat or rat’s got your tongue. Your guts are yellow, your wide grin is hollow. Summon the young to a portal … Continue reading

October 31, 2017 · Leave a comment

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