Ian C. Smith

Borne Back   Driven through time to my old area, the day splendid, unlike movie funeral weather, an observation Jane would have appreciated, I gaze at sere paddocks, towards mountains, picture my former home, the huge bird’s nest fern now splaying from the...

Gale Acuff

Work in Progress   It’s the same poem that I wrote last night but it’s better. Honestly. You should have seen last night’s draft. Ugh. And I’ll write it again –but better still–tomorrow night. If I could live forever this poem would become –dare...

Donal Mahoney

Love Is Another Thing   Sitting at the table spinning the creamer running her fingers through sugar the kids spilled at supper, Sue   suddenly says, “Don, love is another thing.” Since love is another thing I have to go rent a room,   leave behind eight...

Chris McDermott

Cycling to work on a winter morning The hour is dark and the dawn still drowsy beneath the dim lit rim of the world, weary with waiting for the stinting short light of winter. The crisp, clear sky still scored by starlight and moon domes the chilled world and draws...

Antony Johae

Collocative Conundrum                                                       With my yellow pencil I draw a rainy tail upon a bushy hill frothing with fierce flowers.   I tell a steep story about an exciting lion basking in sharp water dallying in the deep day....