Category: Summer 2015 Poetry
Karner Blue Butterfly
by Marc Swan It’s a small show in a grand old brick synagogue converted to artist studios — a photographer is hosting a display of eight
South Central Los Angeles, 1975
by Marc Swan There’s no gunshot or mayhem just the thought raging like wildfire inside my head. He’s an older man just released from Atascadero.
Not Going to See Jean Valentine Get Her Gold Medal Award
by Tim Suermondt To put it in poetic language: it’s raining Brahmins and sharks — and lately my spirit and my body have been working in tandem,
Naxos in April
by Tim Suermondt Gray and blue and beautiful, the night of perfect possibilities is here. The man wipes his shoes for some last minute spit and
How the Last European Film Will Go
by Tim Suermondt The charming couple will split over bad sex and incompatible philosophy — the long tracking shots and extreme close–ups
The Theater of Breakfast
by Philip Dacey Knife, banana, bowl — props for the theater our father staged each day as he gave voice to slice after slice: “I am the Emperor,
Against the Orchestra
by Philip Dacey If it’s to be a concerto for violin, let the orchestra score be transcribed for piano so that we hear two voices in dialogue with
Black and White
by Philip Dacey St. Louis. The Forties. The neighborhood poor white. (Or say white trash, given how when the flight to the suburbs happened
Triolet: At Juilliard
by Philip Dacey The female pianist’s long blonde lock of hair swings down before her face as she is playing fugal Bach. The female pianist’s long
Black
by Philip Dacey “My mother never let me wear black; now I wear black all the time.”