on idle noons. The sun boils fight and desire to a
Carpenter bees bump into us, fat on porch wood,
ignoring or ignorant of our rocking in blue, weathered
Squash grows shoulder-high, and the fridge is flush
with Jamaican Red Stripe. Locusts never haunt us.
“Your invention doesn't do anything,” we complain.
“It's as if death is to be mankind's achievement.
Plus, death’s visage seems severe, like a scorned
drug dealer, or a home ec. teacher,
and everyone's left with the composer's tragedy:
a lifetime of would-be speech muffled into Einstein
on the Beach.”
We're in the market for muscle memory, for days
we can figure out purely from context. We want to hear
band Degenerate that we never started with that beautiful
whose Escher tattoo was drawing itself, to drink
all that wine. But no, you can never find the lovely ones
the day after, when you remember to remember.
We have to hear Karen's words forever:
You might need me tomorrow.
And we know that her poetry is the final band
playing the Titanic,
and that everything’s fine
until dignity becomes a luxury.
She was just a Vietnam.
We were an American Embassy.
There's nothing for you here, Karen. It's amazing
what can end up as okay. One day we'll all get fresh
tattoos. We'll steal time to read each other's minds in
Then you can drink all the wine. It was never up to
Something did happen. It left marks, bestial and copper.
Somewhere there's a dartboard scored with dreams and
You’ll find that here it's easier to be a criminal than a
and easier still to be both. You’ll find us talking about
something---self-indulgent, and sad all the time.
So cheer when we die, because we're the bad guys.
With no time, no idea, and no excuse,
we're the excitable morons who loudly misspell salvation.
DAVID TUVELL has written poems for the /New Orleans
Review/, /The Steel Toe Review/, NYU's /Minetta Review/, KSU’s /Share/,
/Eyedrum Periodically/, and other publications. His English B.A. comes from
Kennesaw State University, and he studied substantially at the University of
Florida. Outside of poetry, his path has been quite various, and he's made his
way through things like software engineering, information science, and labor.
GARY BECK spent
most of his life as a theater director. He has 11 published chapbooks and 3
accepted, 10 published poetry collections, 5 accepted for publication. He has 3
novels and 3 accepted for publication. 1 short story collection and 1 accepted
for publication. His poetry, fiction and essays have appeared in hundreds of
literary publications. His original plays and translations of Moliere,
Aristophanes and Sophocles have been produced Off Broadway. He lives in
To catch The hurricane In a saddle Of the folded mountains Sleeping horizon Unseen valley Hide.
De-rusted Thoughts of Steel mind baked In the kiln of bricks Toasted hard served A Bread, too vague Difficult to digest The coal.
A baker Exploring dark His de-mattered future Struggling so hard Whose futile job To get the food To live.
Beside The kiln a poet Unidentified Along with assaulted Sulphuric nostrils Breathing to cook His words.
HEM RAJ BASTOLA is currently working as a
freelance local tour guide in and around Pokhara Valley, Nepal. He has worked
as a Guest Service Agent at the Hotel Pokhara Grande, as a cave guide, inside
the cave area for all tourists as well as office assistance in Guptshor Mahadev
Cave, as a substitute representative for Sita Travels, as a freelance trekking
guide for tourists to the surrounding Annapurna range and as a book salesman in
Annapurna Stationary Center.
Hem also enjoys writing poetry, listening
to music and collecting stamps.
For many years I walked the forest’s trail,
through flowered meadows, under Sycamore, Birch, And Alder trees, atop small
boulders crossing the stream,
Mused upon the beauty and tranquility of
nature, as I traveled up and down the verdant fields searching for a subtle
silence in the stillness of the morn.
I observed the mysteries of life, the
Crawling insects, flying bugs and Butterflies, the raspy croaking frogs hiding
in the reeds alongside the softly flowing stream watching trout swimming in a
pond, the multitude of various Species of birds, the small rodents Racing over
the meadow, the deer Silently eating grass with a wary eye open for intruders,
all part of the wonders of our existence.
As I now sit beside a deep blue pond with
ripples like old blue parchment on its skin caused by a balmy summer breeze, I
watch The apricot dawn flowing lazily down the hills, listen to the bird-songs
of downy birds sitting in the trees composing melodies. The orange and yellow
tinged leaves of the Sycamore trees painted by summer’s heat, dance in the warm
air casting flickering shadows like old memories dancing upon the earth’s
A multitude of memories caress my mind
filling my soul with the aroma of sweet hours, and the odor of bitter hours to
come. I worry about the time when my days in the forest will end, a sudden hour
when I will no longer be able to safely walk the quiet paths, no longer hear
the birds singing, the frogs croaking, dip my body into cool ponds, or watch
animals quietly walking across the grasslands. As the Hours of my life
start to fade, such thoughts cause my mind to sadden.
JAMES G. PIATT's poems have been nominated for Pushcart and
Best of Web awards, and his poems were published in The 100 Best Poems of
2015 & 2014 Anthologies. He has published 2 poetry books “The Silent
Pond” (2012), and “Ancient Rhythms,” (2014), and over 665 poems in over
90 different magazine, anthologies, and poetry books. His third
poetry book is scheduled for release in January. His books are available
on Amazon, and Barnes and Noble.
JOHN GREY is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently
published in New Plains Review, South Carolina Review, Gargoyle and Big Muddy
Review with work upcoming in Louisiana Review, Cape Rock and Spoon River Poetry
LEE JOHNSON lived ten years in Canada during the Vietnam era: now known as
the Illinois poet, from Itasca, IL. Today he is a poet, freelance writer,
photographer who experiments with poetography (blending poetry with
photography), and small business owner in Itasca, Illinois, who has been
published in more than 875 small press magazines in 27 countries. He edits 10
poetry sites. Michael is the author of The Lost American: "From Exile
to Freedom", several chapbooks of poetry, including "From Which Place
the Morning Rises" and "Challenge of Night and Day", and
"Chicago Poems". He also has over 74 poetry videos on YouTube.
Winter seems intent
on overstaying its welcome
and the ice grasping
the last open water,
has taken full control.
Mist and smoke from chimneys
mingle in counterpoint
while the dull-gray
sky hovers in dusk
in order to ply its trade.
But the weeds
between the boarded-up
houses know what to do:
they raise their chins,
to keep their heads above
the snow line.
of light, flatten
and fade. Keep
moving, they whisper
in my ear. This wind
will cut you like a poet
paring, always paring
word after word,
bare to the bone.
(A poem in
the shi Tradition)
It is still; all day
Same, planted land,
Together. Towns too
It is still; this
Clouds of satin
This barn, this bale
That stand no-where.
There are tractors in
There are combines on
There are scars plowed
into this soil.
Nothing lasts longer
than these days in July.
RICHARD LUFTIG is a former professor of educational
psychology and special education at Miami University in Ohio now residing in
Pomona, CA. He is a recipient of the Cincinnati Post-Corbett Foundation Award
for Literature and a semi finalist for the Emily Dickinson Society Award. His
poems have appeared in numerous literary journals in the United States and
internationally in Japan, Canada, Australia, Europe, Thailand, Hong Kong and
As though at the behest of some primeval thinking force
A distant sun’s haze is agleam
Vying with the shapechanging clouds for form
Like sharp forecasts, predictions fetched from dream.
When channeling sighs into thought tunnels that transform
Perhaps a cheerier brighter sound results anew.
The sheer yearning of those shapeless for form
Makes the gold sun spring into view.
SALONI KAUL, author and poet, was first published at the age of ten
and has been in print since. As critic and columnist Saloni has enjoyed thirty
seven years of being published. Saloni Kaul's first volume, a fifty poem
collection was published in the USA in 2009. Subsequent volumes include
Universal One and Essentials All. Most recent Saloni Kaul poetic production has
been published in Poetry Quarterly, Eye On Life Magazine, Tipton Poetry
Journal, The Horrorzine, Poetry And Paint Anthology, Misty Mountain Review,
Inwood Indiana and Mad Swirl. Upcoming publication acceptances include Sentinel
Quarterly and The Voices Project.
SUDEEP ADHIKARI, from Kathmandu Nepal, is
professionally a PhD in Structural-Engineering. He lives in Kathmandu with his
wife and family and works as an Engineering-Consultant. His poetry has
found place in many online literary journals/ magazines, the recent being Kyoto
(Japan), Scarlet Leaf Review (Canada), Red Fez (USA), Zombie Logic Review
(USA), Uneven Floor (Australia), Dark Matter Journal (USA) and Open Mouse
TODD MERCERwon the Dyer-Ives Kent County Prize for
Poetry in 2016, the National Writers Series Poetry Prize for 2016, and the
Grand Rapids Festival of the Arts Flash Fiction Award for 2015. His digital
chapbook, Life-wish Maintenance, appeared at Right
Hand Pointing. Mercer's recent poetry and fiction appear in: Bartleby
Snopes, Blast Furnace, Cheap Pop, Eunoia Review, The Fib Review, Flash Frontier
Magazine, Fried Chicken and Coffee, In-flight Literary Magazine, The Lake,The
Magnolia Review, Softblow Journal, Star 82 Review and Two