Colin James

Two poems AN ANTI THEIST’S SURRENDER The lines of children were cognizant of an uprising. This was evident in their diffidence to the wind and the way scars healed from the inside despite a continuous onslaught of moral beatings, the noble bullies barely having time to adjust. Fatalistically, the swooning became the resolve. CHOKING ON… Colin James weiterlesen

Philip Loyd

Elephants Never Forget I sneaked another peak at her across the bar, trying my best to not look like I was looking, but it was too late, she had seen me already.  Why was I trying to avoid being seen?  Because I was shy?  Not hardly.  I was lonely, and I didn’t want to look… Philip Loyd weiterlesen

Bill Cotter

Two Poems COMING UPON Incautious, still, and breaking the peace Of the lake, I hear the swan’s unease And sense, in its startled trumpetings, Time is measured in the beating of wings. Across the brown veined beds of reeds Now rippling and dropping their silver beads, There comes the sound of whisperings, “Time is measured… Bill Cotter weiterlesen

Jesse Bant

The Music Man in the Sky There was a flautist jamming in the stars, and I used to sit watching, seated on air. He made me cry one day but I wasn’t really that sad. His tunes were just too good, they had me skating around upside down all over the icy place. Didn’t know… Jesse Bant weiterlesen

John Kidd

Living in Proximity to the Tasman Bridge 1. From a window. Colourlessly, ghosts of cars, trucks, buses, relentlessly, into and out of the sight-line, cross the bridge. Silent puffs of cloud, discreet molecules, almost real. They are cloud, they come from cloud, go into cloud, elevated. Beneath them is the grey insipid sky of the… John Kidd weiterlesen

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Kategorisiert in Lit-Mag #22 Verschlagwortet mit ,

Duane Locke

ANSWERS MY LIFE   If you should ask me how I have spent my life, I would hesitate to answer, Then would answer: Among a thousand swans on the Dike Road in Holland, Alone among Viennese waltzes from CD’s. I would pause and say I only mentioned the happy moments. I did not mentioned my… Duane Locke weiterlesen

David Wright

Poetry from Illinois Fidelities i “What you come to love will surprise you,” said, my father straightening my bow tie. “I need to go to your mother.” His bent head brushed my cheek, his lips grazing slightly my forehead and eyes. In the pictures, he smiles with my bride and his, with his mother, arm… David Wright weiterlesen

Scott C. Holstad

Knoxville Poems Horrorshow I wake feeling dampened pillow, turn on the light, and see the pillow and sheets rusty blood red, soaked through from my arm, which hasn’t stopped. The wife’s going to be pissed. I cut because I enjoy it. My doctor says it’s an endorphin release and an understandable substitute for other things,… Scott C. Holstad weiterlesen

James Lineberger

American Poems American Pie They ran out in the street in front of me two Huck Finn types headed for a morning’s adventure It was the smaller one I hit, a terrier more or less, with a black spot on its side, a female too, and a follower, safe here, she’d be thinking, with her… James Lineberger weiterlesen

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Kategorisiert in Lit-Mag #14 Verschlagwortet mit ,

Billy Marshall-Stoneking

Ventriloquist and Other Poems Ventriloquist I remember that summer when she’d pull out Charlie – which was what she affectionately called my prick – & being an artist, she’d draw a face on it. Then, without moving her lips, she’d go to work: „Hello, how’re you? My name’s Charlie.“ The first time, I laughed. It… Billy Marshall-Stoneking weiterlesen