By Thomas Page Gwendolyn stands on a crowded street in Chicago looking at a bar The men inside are playing pool. She Looks past the simple smiles of the players. She Knows that there is a disconnect between what she Sees and knows about the people inside. She Hopes to unlock the pageantry proposed each … Continue reading “Billiards”
Haikus of Art and Philosophy
by Thomas Page Woman with lamp shade On her head in an advert; I guess it is art? A drenched leaf floats In the murky waters of The Potomac—Fall A parkway flanked by Trees of every shade and tint Paint a picture of Fall The eve’s close around The hour twenty-two ne’er Midnight or midday … Continue reading Haikus of Art and Philosophy
“Stone Cottage”
By Thomas Page A man stands at a precipice, a deluge comes. He allows the soot and ash of a dying age wash over him. Can Cathleen ever be heard again Over the roar of the coming age; an age without reason? A gentle sound interrupts Yeats’ reverie. A young man comes in with … Continue reading “Stone Cottage”
Atlas of Puddles
By Thomas Page Have you ever seen an atlas of puddles Speckle the pavement? An atlas of puddles My feet are wet to the bone, my socks drenched And my shoes seemingly soaked, man. An atlas of puddles The pavement undulates ever so low Making deltas in the city plan An atlas of puddles The … Continue reading Atlas of Puddles
“Akimbo”
By Thomas Page Walt Whitman, he himself, prepares to take a portrait. A portrait of something beyond the Walt that has been know. The Walt of Manhattan, the dandy pedagogue, known for his tendency To prefer the physical over the spiritual To desire what can be attained over what can be inferred He, the … Continue reading “Akimbo”
Stay
By Jessica Ricks “Are you hungry?” “No.” “Can I get you anything?” “No.” “Why are you doing this?” “Because I don't want to eat.” “You know what I mean.” “Because I have to.” “I still don't understand.” “I don't fully understand either.” “And yet here we are...please talk to me. I don't want to see … Continue reading Stay
Homestead
By Thomas Page With the glide of a Pen, Emily Dickinson Writes a little poem. She looks out her room’s Window, the cemetery Calls her to picture Momento mori— The fly captures dying light From someone’s pale eyes The buzz steals the soul As the weak lids close firmly To open nevermore. She puts … Continue reading Homestead
A Dramatic Recounting of a Email Chain Between a Student and His Professor
By Thomas Page -------------------------------- “Dear Dr. Kesey, I am not able to attend class today because I have the flu. Yours, Joseph Brown” --------------------------------- “Dear Mr. Brown, I would normally excuse your absence from class, but I’ve noticed you have never attended any of the discussion sections with Ms. Florin. You have used all of … Continue reading A Dramatic Recounting of a Email Chain Between a Student and His Professor
Hiding
By Pat St. Pierre
Roots
By Emma Woodford Lydia green fronds a little brittle maneuvered carefully into place branches gently straightened out. Re-placed and pushed down, half a can of water doused whispering a loving chant. Bay tree planted, mold two holes and fold in roots. His ancestor lives in Brittany, kilometers from here, first planted in … Continue reading Roots
Academy of the Heart And Mind 