I don’t need a Black Superman but some people might those who never knew my uncles and all they did to raise up the next generation while being servants of the church, while erecting businesses even failing then starting again to build up a reputation people in the community could respect.… Read More “BECAUSE I KNEW MY UNCLES by Ellen June Wright”

The Danube River, Croatia The arteries of the earth are drying up— Lifeblood river that birthed a waltz recedes, along with phantom dancing girls in bustled white gowns, the feather flight cadence of twirling in a fairy tale ends, as the Danube gives up her real ghosts— the broken ship’s steel hulks.… Read More “EMERGENCE by Jasmine Marshall Armstrong”

I taught yoga once At a summer camp.… Read More “YOGA CLASS by Jacqueline McCauley”

Talk Well to Others “Breathe to stand well, talk well, be well.… Read More “THREE POEMS by Catherine Anderson”

Just when I think I’m a seasoned traveler I meet Monique, a turquoise-laden motel clerk in western Wyoming Who thinks I’m out of line when after checking in I complain That someone wearing blue lipstick and plenty of dusty makeup Has already been sleeping in my bed.… Read More “THE BRINK by Gordon Mennenga”

there is no firein the lavender skies of Februaryit is as if all that existswith warmth, light and desirehas fled to the future it is here that the white swans muse and ponderslowly stirring in hapless meanderingsthrough a stoic sluggish pondit is herethat I find myself coming to belong nestled in the cold casket of a wind-still winterwhere spring does not reveal its flowery facefor the air is soiled, stagnant and sourwhere gray gives my soul a vapid and sullen vacuity the canvas imbues a mossy greento the artist’s stroke of incessant grayits somber drizzling mistskeep falling on my weary palllingering here I have imprisoned hopesomewhere in the dire fog this catatonia speaks tones of wretched gloom that paralyze with foreboding dullness exhuming imparting ghosts that loom and beckonto follow with unfeeling discovery I tread bent and worn in this stagnant wastelandseeking a sojourn with deathly swansascribing to a touchstone of insensible beautyenvisioned through a joyless malaise I am empirically lost in the deathlike shroudmasked in the nakedness of my thoughtsdrawn to a rampart of impenetrable apathyhiding myselfin the miasma of passionless pain

And would it have been worth it after all?… Read More “WOULD IT HAVE BEEN WORTH IT AFTER ALL by Kathlene Barrett”

Holding I turn to the moon and I bathe in its light and I reach out to pick up its dust and instead I hold color, that off-white, warm-white white, and it goes into my hand, my fingers, like the softest glittering schist and I feel its color palely shining through me, to me with me, in me.… Read More “HOLDING by Eabhan Ni Shuileabhain”