The Cafe Review

by Wayne Atherton He sailed upon his raft of words into the mystery of himself and lived by them

by Roger Dutton his silver hair thrown by the wind in his whistle, an ambassador of poetry & good will &

by Molly McGrath A great blue heron flies out between earth and sky. Slow, deep wing beats send him down river to me. He arrived before us And

by Martin Steingesser Hardly a breeze of air. The small birds fall silent in the trees. Simply wait: soon

by Ralph Angel All night long the moon is wandering behind the clouds and upon the water. All night the flickering in shop windows across an

by Thomas D. Absher Before paper, medieval writers wrote on animal skins: cattle, sheep, and goats for parchment; vellum from calves, prized for

by Thomas D. Absher Do not make the mistake of studying alchemy before you have studied the one feather left in your yard by a raven, maybe left

by Gibson Fay-LeBlanc Seventy –six, two new hips, skates that look pulled off a museum shelf. He plays with guys half his age, plus a few a

by Gibson Fay-LeBlanc Keel I built under me, sunk deep so as not to tip or flip or let salt water rush through galley then

by Marita O’Neill Rolling expanse of prairies, Midwest vowels, wide and flat, lumbered always through your voice, your gait, the round stone of

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