Because of their format, several poems that appear in the current issue are included as pdfs. To read them, click on their titles below or on the right side of this page.
On a road leading to where I used to live,
thoughts go back to friends who would visit,
most now are in places quite exquisite,
I remember there was a big bridge
with a toll, and for once I had change.
The river was a shadow of itself below
A cartoon rider on a horse so real
it shits and stalls and rears against the rider
it’s been saddled with in this narrative.
I came out of that country
with one suitcase
crammed with newspaper,
seeds in every fold.
There is one pointtwo point and pointless
(I am referring to some of
the excesses of Canaletto).
Sorrow, keep calm.
Evening—you asked for it—has come.
Darkening streets (depending who you are)
bring peace, or fear.
The dawn of the age is an old tune just barely in d minor.
You can go there, listen, hear what Arnold Schoenberg heard
Boats are sad folks
as they rock
and they rock tied
Murmurous muezzin, hedge-
hiding, no reason to
silence for never I’d harm
you, not Rueheart, not
Slovenly blondes, mussed
in feathering snow,
in ice-burst of spring,