by Ed Bok Lee
The castle where I happened upon the roundness of suns
was an island prison on the ocean
No one visited my distractions here
or my more joyful sins
A sanctuary of sound and sense
The waves brought shells and seaweed I learned
to fill with palm honey Continue reading
by Ann Howells
moon of falling cold,
ice blighted, snow infested,
overcast sky tightened down—
fierce and oppressive—
as earth pulls cold around her. Continue reading
by Lisa Roullard
You arrived: leaf-like, designed—
black sparked across yellow.
A study in thin.
One black tail broken off.
like tea-stained paper. Continue reading
by Gay Baines
It all started with a little argument he had with his mother, coming out of a larger, more important argument with his father.
His father wanted him to be a scientist. “Something practical.” But Jesus liked words: English lit, writing, acting. Especially acting. He would be the next Raul Julia. He imagined himself playing Romeo, Macbeth, Hamlet, Lear. He would show the Anglos how great a Latino actor could be. Continue reading
by Anastasia Stelse
Because I am visiting home,
I shovel snow
pregnant with more
than the average moisture
as it whites out the world,
houses merely mountains,
houses the peaks of Swiss Alps
where lies a castle carved
from so much ice—a glacier Continue reading