The desert in June. It bedevils me:
an approaching paper cut. A singing stone.
Dry riverbed where quotation marks
lie down to dry. Where I escape.
Hot breeze on the back of my neck,
dogjaw dropping from the sky.
The van of paper cuts heaving.
the hour of slumber
mumbling the nights
of great proportion
Keith Polette
E. L. Blizzard
a possum with every purchase
catching the light
the golden seal
on my English degree
Kelly Sauvage/ Agnes Eva Savich
thunderclap
not an owl feather
left of fargo
Agnes Eva Savich / Kelly Sauvage
Was that a bird or three chipmunks in a trench coat?
time warp
the gnarled hand
of her rolex
Agnes Eva Savich / Kelly Sauvage
While memory still proffers
While faded parchments still offer hints
As old laments still haunt the hallows
Each twilight slowly fading
Hear my song and know
That I am in you
I hid in Himalayan heights
Emerged from the depths
Lingered in jungle shadows
Passed from darkness into light
I am in you
As histories converge
I, too, am part of everything
Not as wild as you thought
Bards wove me into melody
You joined me in cosmic harmony
See me again
I hid in Himalayan heights
Emerged from the depths
Lingered in jungle shadows
Passed from darkness into light
I played my part
I am in you
rawhide silhouette
Sirius burning down
the wolf’s howl
*The “monkey people” of Hindu mythology
Anna Cates
Martin had a discussion about cars with a friend the other day. It seems Martin’s in the luxury bracket with his Audi A6. People are variously aghast, outraged or envious.
– How can you afford it?
The fact of the matter is, Martin’s car has an 06 registration making it sixteen years old. He bought it for two thousand euros and spent another thousand or so on repairs.
– Why don’t you buy a smaller car? Cheaper tax and insurance! There’s a fellah down in Eastwall who sells Japanese imports. You could buy a Honda Jazz or a Nissan Micra. Great cars!
– I wouldn’t be found dead in one. Old dears’ cars!
– I bought one.
– Sorry, I don’t mean to offend.
– You should be more down to earth, Martin.
– Funny, I could never achieve that.
– What???
a full moon
in the winter sky –
black ice
Gerry McDonell
You pirouette wordplay, monologue metaphors, cha-cha verses, tango rhymes. Maker of pride in your mother’s eyes, you hog the spotlight.
path to stardom
the sinuous detours
of stepping stones
Jackie Chou
You ping-pong your lullabied charm into my life. Each thought you catharsis a blow to my psyche. You cross stitch, embroider your ideologies, your threads too intricate to undo.
writer’s block
my brain a dark canvas
of wordless thoughts
Jackie Chou
stained hands
dust
on the edge of absence—
still resists
Kelly Sauvage/Vijay Prasad
stillness seeps into—
the depth
of her wound
Vijay Prasad/Kelly Sauvage
ululation—
our bodies turn
into ideas
Kelly Sauvage/Vijay Prasad
“I’m tired,” my brother says. “The kind of tired you can’t sleep off.”
“Me too,” I say. “It’s been a long life. I could sleep for a week.”
new snow
cleansing the palette
between courses
Peter Newton
I hear Iceland’s having a sale on icebergs. The eco-tourists arrive in droves carbon footprinting what’s left of the snow.
polar bears
in figurine size
blood moon
Peter Newton
the other bunny 
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