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 ...

There must be better ways than saying “no”

Three poems by Rachel Hadas

Dawns Each dawn is an amazement. From the subterranean corridors of night, my slippery crags and sucking mudslides, desperate scrambles, floundering through snow, wallowing waist-deep through murky waters. Your maze of unlit streets, criss-crossing freeways, ...

Financial Advice to Poets

Plus three more by Joseph S. Salemi

Military Funeral The muffled roll of drums, the folded flag; Three volleys from bolt-actions, sharp and crisp; The clink of cartridge casings, and a wisp Of bluish smoke. Then Taps begins its drag Of lengthened ...

May, a parody of real Spring

Two poems by James Russell Lowell

Under the Willows May is a pious fraud of the almanac. A ghastly parody of real Spring Shaped out of snow and breathed with eastern wind; Or if, o’er-confident, she trust the date, And, with ...

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