Break Wake Routine
by Allen Fowler Each day a question stumps us from the rich dark drama of night, what to eat mostly, what package to wear. Our constant doing
Cui Dono? after Catullus
by Richard Taylor To whom am I to give these poems, polished, erased, smoothed again and fitted into murmured line, the limb and sinew of
Carnal Knowledge
by Richard Taylor I want to see the wounds I’ve dealt and show the scars I wear. I would point out the faintest outline of a footprint on the
Mavka #6. The Kiss
by Padma Thornlyre I lie alone. Sappho And thus, under a fat moon in February, the wheel turns, our failures at last not wrong- turns,
Mavka #8.
by Padma Thornlyre I am not so full of wine and elk medallions grilled rare that I forsake utterance. Lichens, too, have filled me up, near
What You See Is What You Get
by David Budbill Thoughts never twisty. Confucius, The Analects Grace Paley said once, in a hand written note to me, We write big,