By John Beck
Posted on
The fall
has halted
for the
yellow maple
leaf, fresh
caught, bright,
casting a
tiny shadow
in the
porch corner
from the
spider’s web
in the
last light
of this
October day:
no escape,
no meal.
Note: This piece was previously published by LansingOnlineNews.com, a now defunct local news outlet, in 2012.…
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By Madi Huffman
Posted on
this heart of mine feels dull and lonely
aching for your love, only
are you thinking of me where you are?
are you looking at the same stars ?
did the moon tell you i’ve been telling her stories about you?
and how every shade and every hue
is more vibrant next to you ?
carolina skies are nothing compared to your eyes
and my my my… i sure do miss my guy
the one who dons himself in paint
my patron saint
in t e c h n i c o l o r
my dream of a lover
personified
just in time
to save my soul
was that your goal?
because now it’s yours
careful to treat it well, toujours
she’s a delicate little thing, this heart
but i’d sacrifice it all and call it art
By Allison Burris
Posted on
If only there could always be hamentaschen for breakfast:
little cookie triangles crumbling into coffee.
If only there was always coffee.
If only the coffee would grind itself—silently.
If only I craved tea in the morning and not coffee.
If only there was always optimal-temperature tea and time to read
during a rainstorm, soft light, a blanket.
If only in the rainstorm a cat named Edith found her way to me.
Or an Eddie. I would also take a male cat named Eddie
in a rainstorm, bedraggled, slightly grumpy.
If only Eddie would be willing to contemplate a name change
to something that better fits his personality. Or if not,
if only he’d let me tell everyone that Eddie is short for
Editorializer,
Edification,
One-half-of-a-set-of-identical-twins.
If only Eddie could gain the power of speech to tell me
that last one seems like a stretch.…
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By Lawren Coleman
Posted on
The sand squelches between my squirmy toes,
as I clutch my red bucket of curious creatures—
captured by my bubbling interest.
I venture closer to the ocean’s edge,
a shell suddenly slicing into my foot.
My blood mingles with sand and gravel,
like strawberry syrup and graham cracker crumbles.
The sea eagerly laps at my wounded skin,
salt sizzling against the rawness within.
My bucket topples, releasing its captives,
and I watch them scurry back to their homes.
I received a warning,
a debt to settle for my youthful curiosity.
A price in lifeblood,
transaction now complete.
By Jeremy Hallstrom
Posted on
on this night I had a dream.
conjurations by the fairies’ midwife it would seem,
bringing me sweet visions
and courted by heart-strung decisions,
swimming in soft swan feathers
while chasing him bound by their divine tethers.
in the morning when I wake,
the fog of courtship clears that memory made by mistake.
then I shall cut the cord and cringe,
taking her sickly medicine from a sharp syringe.
i painfully pull out his gilded arrow
and shake the nightmare out of my bone and marrow,
purging misty pansy dew
and wipe my eyes to be cleansed of you.
i have tossed and churned in heat,
covered in salt and musk of a thin stained bedsheet.
somewhere, you rest inside different arms,
so I’ll turn over and wish for another’s charms.…
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By Dom Blanco
Posted on
Announce the Morning. Yes
by going about Your day. Yes
raise Your well-rested Flesh,
dress It & take It to Café Colao.
Note the warmth in warmth.
Note the Sun & Clouds.
Note the Bus Driver & His
solemn, stoic face. Note
the patience it takes to wait
for the walk sign to turn white.
Note the Woman as You enter,
whose car has gone missing…
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By Alan Brayne
Posted on
Click: the door is locked
His mind unlocked
Watch him through the spyhole
Scratching at his skin
Biting his lips till they bleed
The only way he can feel
The only way to stay real
In the white room.
He knows he’s being watched
But he needs that prying eye
To stop himself imploding
To cling to outside things
No need for any mirrors
In this gaping space of ice
The shining happens inside him
In the white room.…
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