by Patricia Callan
like I was born
in boiling oil,
my mother
a window–
painted shut,
my whisper
a yawn set
to music; you
hear me lazy.
Your hinged
jaw rusts open.
Category Archives: Poetry
This Is Just How I Sound
Filed under Poetry
Australia
by Steven Beauchamp
Arcing out of the black Pacific sky
like a falling star banking due south
over Brisbane just as the sun rose
on the other side of the world,
we saw the primeval canvas of Australia
spread out toward Sydney in a swirling vision
of rolling eucalyptus mountains,
black snakes of water slithering
into valleys of fire. Then the deep blue
and gray rocks of the harbor lapping
fields with row upon row of runways
planted with planes.
In Fall’s Attic
by Deborah Doolittle
That it should come to this
opposite of bliss. This more than
mellow recognizance of things past
their prime, outmoded, out
of date, out of style, fashion, service,
and long past usefulness. Left sitting,
standing, or rolled up onto one side,
our collective sighs are not from
contentment. Once we were the stuff
from which dreams were made of.
Our day dreams and our nightmares
share the same theme.
Filed under Poetry
Huckleberry Pie
by Darren Demaree
for Kelly Morse
Every berry
has an accent
if you give it
a chance
to speak.
Sugar can Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
I Am Building A Boat
by Chrys Tobey
Made of paper and popsicle sticks. Made of sadness.
This part carries my past loves. This part has my childhood,
my shame. This part holds my loss. I am sailing it down
a stream of rainwater. I have painted it orange because someone
I once loved wore this color. I don’t know if you’ll ever find it.
Maybe you will, but you won’t want it. Maybe you’ll be too afraid. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
