by Doreen Beyer
A small fire feeds on fruit boxes,
warming arthritic bones made cold
under forty feet of sea. Continue reading
by Doreen Beyer
A small fire feeds on fruit boxes,
warming arthritic bones made cold
under forty feet of sea. Continue reading
by Bill Hollands
Close your eyes as the ridges
tick by under your fingertip.
Wherever you land you go,
do-overs allowed, as many
as you like. Madagascar, Nepal,
Suriname, Chad – I always
wanted Chad. I knew
nothing about it. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Jim Kraus
Past the line of stones,
watch out for the kiawe, its thorns.
Then run across the hot sand Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Nancy Dickeman
There is an atomic land along the crook in the river
where reactors’ shadows
once traced the Columbia’s currents. Continue reading
by Brad Crenshaw
I
All said, things are settling down.
It’s that sort of world, definitely
haunted, but those who know report that roads
are open in Los Angeles, where people
try to breathe again, and citizens
in India can see the Himalayas
white as frozen ghosts. It gives me heart
somehow. Hindus wave at neighbors, and
in Tuscany the sheltered businessmen
are singing on their ledges. Early morning
somewhere lately, oilmen wake on ocean
platforms without blasting, no spills
out of the center of the earth. Almost
no one’s getting murdered anymore. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry