by lewis levenberg so sing an isolated verse or two while) bells to silence fade and background city rumblings hemhorrage restart detailless know) nothing: the street playful slash serious et cetera all burn) skin sloughs & bubbles shoulders backs necks hours break and haul to piles) concrete streetside karmic compensation free hard labor force let) […]
by Tom Bair The sort of changes people court and the ones they invite immediately. I thought of it while I was blank this morning. I had gotten out of bed and I was sitting in my chair. My posture has gotten worse. I used to be active; now I’m not active. I wear sea-gull […]
by lewis levenberg set up a ladder carry up a bucket muck the muck out (sweet earth undisturbed for ages dead leaves twigs et cetera slowly composting without shit trash food or bugs even) (thirty feet above the ground saplings sprout tenuous tenacious from the loam) (black water silt-laden rain water stone-filtered layered leaf and […]
by Dana Jaye Cadman Here the night spreads across the breast of day and yawns one aching grey breath onto the river, the ceiling swings low over while the Parlor City hugs me drunk between muse and rot. A juniper. What forgives of us? What of us can enter or be entered– these ambitious limbs […]
by Jennifer Diskin In an Oak Park suburb, a homeless lady takes our picture in front of the Unity Temple. She looks for the subway, and we take a half hour journey through these streets because she told us it was her birthday. She’s looking for company and when it comes to loneliness what choice […]
by Joe Weil It was a terrible year when Micheal Jackson was God, and Diana Ross was his mother. Forget getting layed. I worked a factory, grave yard shift, came home at nine in the morning, belched forth by the 58 bus, opened a bottle of Becks just to wash the steel chips from my […]
by Adam Fitzgerald The life we didn’t live. The time tepid as bronze, but honest. The stacked air, the frozen rail, the dripping of blue drops in summer. The honey-trees, the brick façade, the empty canyons of light between a street and the wheeled grocery cart of the sun where a cloud slips his footing. […]
by Liz Rosenberg The summer night is radiantly cool. You’d have liked it. You’d have loved the chili-pepper of the rose, daisies at the zoo, the color of a shell’s curved roseate innards, the orangey scarlet ibis picking his lit way along the wood-chip path and penguins flittering through the pond like bats. “Flying is […]
