Antony Hitchin Conversation in a Café ‘I’ve missed you’ she says, fingers fondling a glass of steaming coffee, glass coloured caramel, reflecting a chequered red and off-white table cloth covered in plastic, easy-wipe down, yet sticky to the touch. There is a faint smell of disinfectant in the air and I wonder what we’re doing [...]
Archive for March, 2008
#27
Posted in Poetry on March 29, 2008 | Leave a Comment »
#26
Posted in Poetry on March 26, 2008 | Leave a Comment »
Karl Koweski let’s go burn one we’ve just finished hanging a set of cylinders into the chrome tanks when Mike says “let’s go burn one” “hell yeah, I’m with you”
#25
Posted in Poetry on March 21, 2008 | Leave a Comment »
Stanley H. Barkan March It’s March but no winds blow. This trip I visited the Egadi not the Aeolian Isles. Besides, I made no request for the bagging of any kind of storm. And I’m no Odysseus anyway. Is it that the gods no longer determine or interfere with our doings? Our journey is our [...]
#24
Posted in Poetry on March 15, 2008 | 1 Comment »
Charles P. Ries I LOVE Your grilled cheese sandwiches under the full March moon, as Jupiter draws near and we witness its unblinking eye hovering above the horizon at early dusk. The way your lip is slightly twisted upward at one corner making your mouth look like an irregular right triangle.
#23
Posted in Poetry on March 11, 2008 | 1 Comment »
A.D. Winans GOING BACK IN TIME When I was young I drove to Salinas And ran through the bean fields Pretending I was James Dean in East of Eden Drove to Monterey and walked Cannery Row Imagining myself packing sardines in between Midnight conversations with Doc and the boys
#22
Posted in Poetry on March 6, 2008 | 1 Comment »
Ryan A. Bunch Laughter Thursday nights only the hopeful walk the streets. Frosted by dim lights, painted in the whitewash of the moon we moths wander, skipping across the neon signs that dot the street leaving silent ripples in the abandoned last sip of cheap plastic cups, offering promises only the dead can keep. While [...]
#21
Posted in Poetry on March 2, 2008 | 1 Comment »
Christopher Major Sunk ? Plastic mask and air pipe allow the click-slurp click-slurp of regular breaths; faces at the glassy surface, all anxious reflections. Suddenly, ripples caused by metal paddles………. peaks ‘n’ troughs of a started heart.
-
Contents
Archives
- January 2012
- December 2011
- November 2011
- October 2011
- September 2011
- August 2011
- July 2011
- June 2011
- May 2011
- April 2011
- March 2011
- February 2011
- January 2011
- December 2010
- November 2010
- October 2010
- September 2010
- August 2010
- July 2010
- June 2010
- May 2010
- April 2010
- March 2010
- February 2010
- January 2010
- December 2009
- November 2009
- October 2009
- September 2009
- August 2009
- July 2009
- June 2009
- May 2009
- April 2009
- March 2009
- February 2009
- January 2009
- December 2008
- November 2008
- October 2008
- September 2008
- August 2008
- July 2008
- June 2008
- May 2008
- April 2008
- March 2008
- February 2008
- January 2008
- December 2007
- November 2007
- October 2007
- September 2007
- August 2007
