The Cafe Review

by Michael David Madonick Puffed – up, as if weight might give body to song, the cardinal’s staccato rakes the morning air. Beneath him,

by Michael David Madonick it’s hard to keep a rhythm with the wind in your face birds tacking like loose newspaper clouds a kind of wind sock the

by Michael David Madonick We cannot reconcile ourselves, the incongruities of our bodies and of our natures, that which is cast in the purposeful

by Daniel Hales See how the wind folds and pleats the water? Hear how each wave says, repeats: the water? After two years marooned on pine

by Karina Borowicz If I cry when I tell you the dream don’t console me simply believe me it’s hard to put my darkness into words to describe the

by Karina Borowicz Again the circle of green light. My neighbor is sewing. With the two natures of a moth, his hands hover there, one futility

by E. Michael Desilets The Birdman of Burbank tinkered with his antique tin toys in the garage, nudging a bit of orange crud off the beak of a

by E. Michael Desilets There were weekends at the Happy Swallow when gap – toothed women took nothing from him but his pay envelope and a

by Andrea L. Watson Now this is what you shall do — Take the land each way you dream a lover earth skin seamless against his found beauty No

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