THE SORROW DANCE For JJLast season’s sorrows cannot fadebefore fresh wounds make her afraid.The phone rings, only telling bad newsfrom great distance. Someone else to lose.More
Tag: Poetry
REVERAND HALE WAS RIGHT – THERE WAS A MURDER IN SALEM Folk Song by John Proctor By Nicola Pett
‘Man, we must look to cause proportionate. Were there murder done, perhaps, and never brought to light? Abomination? Some secret blasphemy that stinks to Heaven?
Rincon Memories By Willy Conley
Rincon Memoriescemetery by the waterconstant easterly tradewindsat the rise of Calle Martillo – El Flamboyannamed after bright red flowering trees Delores serving us on the
Must By Sarah Reardon
MustAfter The Waves by Virginia WoolfHere again there should be music, you say,between the blackened sea and garden gate.The bird should chirp, announce the day,the
The Willow’s Dryad By Alena Casey
The Willow’s Dryad By Alena Casey I met the dryad in a willow tree. I loved her, and she loved me. She was the smell
“slanted autumn light” By Steve Brisendine
slanted autumn light (a glance up from letter-writing) the heart-shaped birthmark on her left cheek Steve Brisendine – writer, poet, occasional artist, recovering journalist –
Grand Little Things 