Cassidy’s Hill Revisited
by Jack Harte Three telephone masts on the shoulder of the mountain the three wise kings.
Shelley’s Monster Speaks
by Órfhlaith Foyle My left hand Builds a grave and puts words in Dead words that don’t shoot Words that are born but Slip and cripple me. All
Stripes and Stars
by Susan Millar DuMars Trumpet, blood, the reveille for American boys in basement rooms — stars behind their skin, their eyes. At night the flag
The Grassland Ocean of Mongolia, A vision for Sean Braiden
by Theo Dorgan I think of you driving to the edge of town And beyond the edge, out and over into the ocean of tall grass, The wind combing the
Spell Binding
by Theo Dorgan All day I have been sorting keepsakes, sorting and sifting, selecting — feather, bird–bone, leaf and root, a scrap of bright
Prothalamion
by Michael Durack Ceaseless sweep of big muddy water, carry the soul of Magnolia State, spirit of forest and cotton field, soul of Caucasian,