by Michael Roque
A provincial girl,
her state is vegetative
as the moors she walks. Continue reading
by Michael Roque
A provincial girl,
her state is vegetative
as the moors she walks. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Pattabi Seshadri
I was walking home
down Market Street at midnight
at the end of a long night of drinking. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Ókólí Stephen Nonso
A mother ties a white cloth to the door, a quiet flag,
while rain drips from the zinc like a ticking clock.
Boys carry empty bowls past the checkpoints,
dust rising behind them like unspoken prayers. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Ace Boggess
I walk among droplets,
unconcerned, soothed by scents
of damp earth & wood
masking my smoky breath
the way the smell of baking bread
hides, however briefly, Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Eric Paul Shaffer
xxxxx I hear the rain stop, and from the eaves begins
the erratic whisper that sparks the leaves below, drop
xxxxx by drop. Dogs released into the yards bark
at the fences, and children play in the street, splashing Continue reading
Filed under Poetry