Yes: now the boiling ball is gone

Three poems by Thomas Hardy

An August Midnight I A shaded lamp and a waving blind, And the beat of a clock from a distant floor: On this scene enter — winged, horned, and spined — A longlegs, a moth, ...

The pines stretch in a vertical declaration: “Light will come”

Two poems by Amy Imbody

Cicada Cycle I. The Dream Seventeen years you sleep: unseen, burrowed, buried, deep in a dream of your becoming. Never hurried, exactly on time, resurrected out of your tomb you climb. II. Cicada Fire-eyed cicada: ...

The great sigh of our still blue marble

Two poems by Michael S. Glaser

Climate Change It is the great sigh of our still blue marble: Each new storm a gasp for air, a crying out from the rivers of truth that are poisoning our political seas. Who makes ...

He come up to the house the other day

Three poems by Paul Bone

APGAR When you were born, you didn’t make a sound until they put you on the warming table, cold chick, bluish and mute. The reddened gowns the nurses wore were soaked as in some fable ...

The pasta water’s on the boil — have some wine

Three poems by A.E. Stallings

Ritual Ritual is firm where life is fickle, Steps in, hands us formula for hurt, Things to do: cross ourselves, stand, bow. There are no words, we protest, but somehow Ritual instructs us what to ...

Suddenly, her dorm room feels too small

Three poems by Casey Cromwell

The First Spark One girl and one boy: just talking, then falling. Suddenly, her dorm room feels too small, two souls peeled clean and raw, like copper wires stripped, electricity whipping silent sparks, dancing and ...

Nation and God piped-in as afterthought

“July 5th” and two other poems by Marjorie Maddox

July 5th All the flag-clad oohs and ahhs fizzle just past midnight, a slight singe of burn hovering over today: patriotic hangover with stars and stripes banging about in brains that never OK’d reciting names ...

The Poet of the American Revolution

Two poems from Philip Freneau

The American Soldier A Picture from the Life To serve with love, And shed your blood, Approved may be above, But here below (Example shew,) ’Tis dangerous to be good. — Lord Oxford Deep in ...

Blue be the sky and soft the breeze

A poem about June

June I gazed upon the glorious sky And the green mountains round, And thought that when I came to lie At rest within the ground, ’Twere pleasant, that in flowery June, When brooks send up ...

Glorious sci-fi futures of slave robots

Three poems by Rick Hill

True Love at Seventy is passion honed by anticipation of coming despair and a certain prayer one of us will bid for one day more or one warm morning or just one shared moment of ...

Her turtle throws Platonic stars on walls

Three poems by Robert Griffith

Geometry Above the lake, the little birds flit in shallow sine waves, skimming low to catch the mayfly hatch, and leaving cold, concentric rings where beaks and wingtips kiss the glass. The morning light is ...

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