RIVER DOGS by Allyson Seconds |
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ELEGY FOR THE ROCKS HAULED AWAY
by Mark D. Bennion You sat there for forty years shoring up the driveway, acting as a skiwampus hopscotch board for our children. The burning bush and strawberries remain by the garage, the dirt forlorn as a friend left behind. Perhaps the decorative cabbages next year will take on a similar hue, staid blue on the first cool morning of fall. You held out for a dog only to be dumped before she ever arrived. Some mornings you were our devotion— bald monks placid and kneeling, and at night from a distance you could be mistaken for bowling balls or pooling water. I trust somewhere we'll find you again perhaps in the eyes of an aged patient, fixed in the bed of silence or prayer. | ||
BARSKOÖN VALLEY, KYRGYZSTAN by Baxter Jackson |
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INFLICTING SCARS
by Timothy Pilgrim Minerals, like you, can gouge others softer than themselves. Topaz scratches quartz, which gashes gold, itself having no way to scrape emeralds or garnets. A mineral's color when crushed, is called the streak, say green for malachite. Diamonds have a streak of white. Being hard, at their will they cut a line into everything, even jade. To see really red streaks, jagged, deep scars, take a closer look at the bottom half of my heart.
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CLIFF JUMP by by Baxter Jackson
"ECSTASY"
| by Pat Andrus "It is often forgotten that (dictionaries) are artificial Crawled up your spine last week. Or was it last night? The days between your face and the archangel's mouth. Oh again, I confuse angels with your breath, when in a cloud, going across morning midst, your falcon turns into an eagle. But did I tell you? I swam away yesterday, to a sea stack's lip; and In the two trees having still survived on that naked piece of land, that almost pure rock, rubies dropped from your breasts. Oh, again a mistake of mornings, trips, and that dream I carved in a mountain south of the Equator's north home. Yes, I bounce, I digress, I look fast into a river's voice. Here, though, the bubbling language placed in tomorrow's sunrise, I see now. I see, and make moons fly and grace their image uttered in your mouth. |
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