Rehoboth Beach Memory 4/28/1982 by David R. Findley

Time to bathe al fresco watched by frosty stars and a crescent moon. I twist quickly for warmth beneath needle-like strands of hot water dispensed by an ancient showerhead, its shadow stretched...

Suitcase by Anne Dykers

In the end, you have no suitcase. The ticket is one-way only, very expensive, caro, precious. You arrive on the side of a hill which has dared to assert...

[POEM] Maybe It’s A Tin Ear by Tim Butterworth

Maybe it’s a tin ear for poetry. “Do unto others” didn’t balance like a see-saw when you heard it? You were playing with fire while others sang about whose...

[POEM] Drinking Weather by Gregory Luce

Sky perfect dull gray intermittent spits of rain not cold or warm and just enough wind to get inside a jacket and I have nothing to do and all the time in the...

Lament for Bob Dylan by Anne Becker

. . . as if he were holding the sea in his black hands, as if, after giving him all that power, she now could give him pity and consolation . . .