james b. nicola

October 5, 2015 Comments Off on james b. nicola

Attempts

My dear friend did not want the procedure.
She only went in for some literature—
for “a friend.” But it took so long to get through
the mob outside—and just for a brochure—
that she thought, “Better now than later,” and had them do
it right away. So many did not come
who’d had appointments, it was easy to
get a doctor’s appointment the same day.

I visited her in ICU. Some
time later in the day, my dear friend died.

I told this to the protesters outside
and brought a snapshot of her, certain they
would tone it down a bit, or even say
a prayer. Not only did no one pray,
I think I was the only one who cried.

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valerie rosenfeld

September 6, 2015 Comments Off on valerie rosenfeld

uncharacteristically

I slice the vegetables thin

instead of into thick chunks

my spirit lightens

making gazpacho

esra sarioglu

June 18, 2015 Comments Off on esra sarioglu

under the heavy rain

coming out quietly

land snails

set the pace

of a dark summer evening

james b. nicola

May 26, 2015 Comments Off on james b. nicola

Have you ever observed that there
is no wall that’s flat, no edge that’s straight,
anywhere
in a human being?
I have and it has improved my seeing
around a corner or behind a thing
of late.

maggie hess

May 11, 2015 Comments Off on maggie hess

The Painter

One bunting seems to
make the rest of them, until
wind changes their paths.
“Look to the horizon,” I
used to say, “your eyes will heal.”

elizabeth lambro

May 7, 2015 Comments Off on elizabeth lambro

Cayuta Lake Inlet 5-2-15

a lynching
of carelessness
discarded
fishing line or
cord of some kind
now litter
inextricably
entangled the legs
of a seagull.
it flew then
I imagine
it’s wings
still free
until the noose
got caught
in limbs of trees.
struggle followed
exhaustion
then death.
it hangs
upside down now
like a pure
white
winged Christ
arms outstretched
crucified
for our sins.

esra sarioglu

March 30, 2015 Comments Off on esra sarioglu

a deepening furrow
between his eyebrows
this angry look
on my laid-back American friend’s face
marks his fifth year in Turkey

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