By Ken Allen Dronsfield In this world of heartless consumption waste of human life to the whipsaw; children shot dead while at recess never did so little mean so much then when two deer in a field saw you and you saw them nothing else mattered... as neither blinked. self-righteous take aim. the pious … Continue reading Into the Whipsaw
With Honesty Comes Rain
By Ken Allen Dronsfield As horse hooves pound upon hard clay and rock trail dusty, water stained curtains move in gentle humid breezes. Thunder reigns o'er the lands off in the distant mountains here, it's quiet, tough to breathe spiders tiptoe across the table. Glistened tears fall in puddles swollen red eyes pray for … Continue reading With Honesty Comes Rain
Tickled By The Fire
By Ken Allen Dronsfield I've thrown myself into it; thrown myself in. And the fire has been lovely. It's flames jump, and tickle, leaping toward impossibility, beautiful stars above. So if today, my body is dragged down, the courage which hurled me into the heart of the flame has smoldered into mere embers. The knowledge … Continue reading Tickled By The Fire
“Lost In A Garden”
By Allison Grayhurst Subjugated, they seduced your ego, abducted your history until nothing remained but a gap, a secret left too long untold. You have a face, a bed to lay your death mask and examine the tears that slip from that counterfeit depth. Morning is vivid, … Continue reading “Lost In A Garden”
Sonnet 103, Rose and Thistle
By Ken Allen Dronsfield The instrument of a torture is said to be born of a rose and thorns at dawn evil briers or brambles grasping tightly a deep snort of peppermint snuff to calm. Alight on a box of reddish apples or resting on a bed of fresh thistle working knives always sharper … Continue reading Sonnet 103, Rose and Thistle
“The Tongue”
By Allison Grayhurst Through the back door he took the baseball bat and hammered the rattlesnake to death. Feasting on decadence, he escaped the burning sunrise and ate the last petal of the last rose. No one could persuade him of unity, not even her with her undulating promises of love. He was saddled in … Continue reading “The Tongue”
With Charcoal Black Version III
By Ken Allen Dronsfield Today I'll travel to the swamp and woods to do a little artistic sketching for those painting projects during the warm summer. As I leave with my thermos and bag, a lone cardinal sits by the empty feeder, snail trails arrive in the freshly tilled garden. Gentle rains beget fresh greener … Continue reading With Charcoal Black Version III
Restless Hawk
Restless Hawk (V2) By Michael Lee Johnson The angels of wings are always in flight be the devil or archangel Michael. I'm a hawk, I'm a night owl night barroom flights, fighter, seeing eyes that eye me contact, not blind, a rhythm of sensuality. I take my shower, deep breath, scrub good off my skin, breathe … Continue reading Restless Hawk
Zev Torres : Five Poems
Who We Are It is not that there are no secrets between us But rather that our secrets are Vital parts of our constitutions. We are who we are Despite our secrets Or perhaps because of our secrets How we guard our secrets Curl around our secrets Shape our lives so our secrets Are not … Continue reading Zev Torres : Five Poems
Link
By Ryan Flanagan the living taught light shower gourds broken links for the dead the system down in soil beds crass corners hitched to flame despicable prize for bird-like men parasol flapping ends rock boy legs in a permanent run paper mogul checks his ink catacombs on top of heads x-ray box … Continue reading Link
