Category: Winter 2009
Dawn
by Lucien Stryk Sunup. A noisy rumor simmers in the leaves over dark whispers of an iffy past. The chorus quickens as a fossil hunter unmasks
Winter Song
by Lucien Stryk Snow settles into cubist folds, fleeces wind-shoveled debris over mountain, village, town. Sends creatures snuggling into
Eschatology
by Dan Stryk The reversed flow rumbles, swelling, up the river . . . The north wind pushes south, now, down its banks . . . The fish, bewildered,
The Vanishing of Pain and Love in Winter
by Dan Stryk The sky, on this late afternoon, spreads milky rose, then fades, above low hills, to chalky cloud — pale whisper of hydrangea in
Crow’s Way in Late Fall
by Dan Stryk What need of philosophy, or abstract talk that droops and withers once again, at each year’s end, like the cluster of
What becomes of things we make or do?
by Dan Stryk Strolling through our neighborhood this languid afternoon— after reading essays by a man who’d left his Brooklyn youth, citybred
Suzanne Stryk
Chuck Feil
James Chase
