c o n v e r g e n c e:
an online journal of poetry & art


WINTER 2018 ISSUE


MEMORY WISP
by Michaela Erwin

The music box sat on
the window ledge in
Grandma's room:
a clown child with
a red-painted smile
and ebony eyes
that twinkled
under the sunlight.

My small hands
would wind the key
until thick clicks echoed
and chimes sailed in,
and the clown revolved
in dance, taking me
to the lush lawn
and concrete of the driveway
where I would hum
the melody for Grandma while
she stood tall and brunette
with wisps of gray, smoking
Kools in the garage.

Now cloaked in dust,
the clown weighs
in my bony hands
with decades of wear,
a song that flows like lava—
smoke caught in my thinning hair
and gears that hardly turn.


A ROOM Tibilisi Georgia by Baxter Jackson

A ROOM TIBILISI, GEORGIA by Baxter Jackson



PATINA
by Roger G. Singer

It was called,
"The Hotel."
Like a childhood friend
known by one name.
The lobby exhibited signs of
artistic death. There were
overused red velvet chairs.
A couch without cushions.
Ceiling fans without life.
Strips of wallpaper peeling
Like a melting glacier.
Many have passed through
the thick wooden and
glass doors onto
black and white tiled
checkerboard floors
showing the wear of
time.
The radio speaks about
vacations far away.
No one listens.


SUBMERGED Yerevan Armenia by Baxter Jackson

SUBMERGED YEREVAN, ARMENIA by Baxter Jackson



TWELVE A.M., DECEMBER 12, 1912
by Steven D. Pace

Derby-headed men play the eardrums like
Teardrops on a bottle of absinthe
There is snow flight all around as I sit
Un-thwarted here in Ceylon
A mindset within a mindset in the haze
Of a hundred cigars belching
Coal dust and coal gas un-adorably
Becoming dark green-licorice horizons
Here to warrant cocaine up the nose

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

Giving freeze to aproned waiters, who flash-frozen
Hold towels under each left arm
Yet there is no impact, no effect
The blast hits indifferent rococo posts (complete with nude busts)
Or teardrop gas lamps overhead
Like acres and acres of zwartkopf fields
As I, an albino dove
Near the bottle to speak red-eyed

Immobility in action landing ever near
But further from diversionary
Splashes of zodiac fury against
Midnight in Ceylon





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