Curiosity
by George Bowering The neonate looked up at me with eyes I have known forever. Then clouds, white on top, grey underneath, slid behind those
In winter when the towels get dry just by being in the house
by Diane Wald My undertaker wears a lively cologne. I like it. I believe in his religion, for he has seen a man pack up his falsetto and travel,
if you’re sleeping and not dreaming, you are dead
by Diane Wald i am broken. and my fissures have not been repaired with gold, you can trace your finger along my faults, and cut your fingers on
my good ex-friend godzilla
by Diane Wald i wasn’t aware that kind of ruination could happen his twin had died when they were born but it took him a year to tell me then
Beauty’s Voice
by Diane Wakoski When the night taps on glass and, in the dark, I brush past down comforters, puffy as birds fluffed and huddled
mouth surfing (preverbs)
by George Quasha 1 on the pale trail of the pores on fire Speaking with chilies in your mouth produces