A Message From the Memoirist — for Bibi
by Paul Pines 4:00 AM at the Northwoods Inn the room temp set for 70 but the fan never stops blowing I can’t sleep imagine writers driving
Interview With the Old Poet: Ferlinghetti at 91 — for David
by Paul Pines A star is born again and again and again until it becomes a Black Hole and no light can escape its density this enormous
The Transcendental in January
by normal “Winter midnight My voice does not Sound like my own.” — Otsuji Snow to
The Fire Starter
by David Sloan “Scatter as from an unextinguish’d hearth Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind.”
The Spaces Between
by David Sloan What insistent whispering crowds out sleep? It coats me like pollen, buoys me against the weight of daylight, points to the spaces
Sonny Kenner has his red guitar
by Kevin Rabas in hand, and moves through the melody as if what he wants is for everyone now to give and get that long kiss in this room on this