Last Supper She graces us with her presence— Gracious presence, divine and hers. But leaning with damned dependence On one who shared easier years. We
Two Poems by Kevin Burris
American Gothic Shadows are shifting on a fresh cut lawn, on an afternoon torn between cloudy, sunny. High summer’s drifting, both here and gone. At
For fear of flight By Scott Schonfeldt-Aultman
For fear of flight For fear of flight I cage my soul, and starve it near to bones Watching closely, guarding-like As it burns like
Her Language Candesces By Robyn Leigh Lear
Her Language Candesces Moon glow surrounds the campsite— where memories are mad in the dark and waterfalls form clouds of fractured perfection. Mother said, Be
Two Poems By Drew Pisarra
Yttrium Why did the weather turn cold and drizzly driving us two to seek shelter inside? Why did we neck until I grew dizzy? Why
The Bucket’s Gist By Ken Gosse
The Bucket’s Gist There was never a lack for a lad and a lass of good reason to climb up the hill where they’d pass
