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Poetry

 

Inji Tea by Gary Galsworth

15 Jun 2017, Posted by Editor in Poetry

INJI TEA   Washing tea bowls random drops brighten a worn floor   About the author: Gary Galsworth is from the New York City area. After the Marine Corps, he studied visual arts in Chicago and New York City. He became a professional plumber and…

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Olson’s by Roger Soffer

14 Jun 2017, Posted by Editor in Poetry

OLSON’S   At last our lunch at the Swedish deli, all formica and marble and the clatter of dishes, pickles, mustard, fresh-baked rye and your eyes that I once thought looked past time but now at 12 o’clock, flit, and I am like you, we…

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Revolution by Irene O’Garden

13 Jun 2017, Posted by Editor in Poetry

REVOLUTION We learn revolution as a one-time trauma, with drum, with anthem, shouts and shocks and falling guillotine, yet, too, the clock revolves. The year revolves. The natural order revolves, the power of beauty revolves away the power of parents revolves away the power of…

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Poetry Reading: The Work of Yun Wang

31 May 2017, Posted by Editor in Poetry

POETRY READING: THE WORK OF YUN WANG AM: Let us hear a little bit about what your inspirations are and how you end up with a poem.   YW: My greatest inspiration has always been nature. A good fraction of my poems came to me while I…

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The Bridges to April by Susan Elbe

29 May 2017, Posted by Editor in Poetry

THE BRIDGES TO APRIL 1   We’ve all got coughs, January rattles that won’t quit. Our necks wrapped in warm scarves against the cold night, we trail one by one into the ill-lit bar. Some let oysters and cold beer slide down their raw throats….

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Poetry Feature: The Work of Terry Lucas

04 May 2017, Posted by Editor in Poetry

SIX POEMS BY TERRY LUCAS Psalm ’66 O, ’66 Plymouth Valiant! In you will I put my trust. Your chromed, Barracuda hood ornament leads me;   your tuck ’n roll bucket seats comfort me; your 400-horsepower Hemi engine will save me   from being shamed…

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Incantation by Stephen Scott Whitaker

02 May 2017, Posted by Editor in Poetry

INCANTATION The bones are mine and the cookie cutters are mine and ripe smell of the compost is mine, and the dress curling at my ankles is mine.   The tattoo of the shark, and the elephant static and electric whistles of the radio echoing…

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