jim
ruland
They
headed west into the blood-streaked sky, crossing twisted ropes of highway,
turning south towards open country until the last light of day brought
them to land on a wire sarah
balcomb
you
find yourself, once more, tilting your tear-stained face skyward while
thinking linh
dinh
No,
Todd didn't have any flashbacks. Not really, he said. Once while watching
television with friends a storm came closer and closer until it was unbearable peter
conners
i
am a nomad in your hand // stepping
the nails, jumping / cross-ties and looking back / where you used to be
/ budding in a tomb stacey
duff
Sometimes,
Mom does Dad with Debra. Both of them take off their shirts, place a tie
around their necks, do the bit. But not today. john
davies
Retreat
to a tent and calculate by six maps exactly where the cataract should
be. Eventually, under the net, you try to sleep bob
castle
Somehow,
heıd gotten the babyıs head off and was peering down its neck hole. mark
o'neil
The
dead & their pigments appear / on the glass everclear / shuffling lips
on the mind
j.j.
blickstein
For
me the phrase to wring one's hands has long held repellent connotations.
I visualize my grandmother's ancient washing machine with its crank-operated
rollers extruding wet laundry fred
muratori
con notes