Intuition Of The Beat by Vanessa Jubis
The raindrops pound the roof above me. The whistling of the wind brings a familiar sound. Have I been here before? I may stay a while longer… The white sheets are crisp ready for sweat. The scent of lavender is hypnotic. My skin is brushed upon, with the caress of his warm breath. Tiny hairs … Read more
Sage Femme by Vanessa Jubis
I must wait for present to become past As the wind blows and I watch the heavy showers The day becomes dim and the skies overcast My body takes over and I begin to fall I tumble into the land that they call “out there” Time is still and meditation takes over The only breath … Read more
A Poem After Li Po by Heather Ann Schmidt
I want to sit by the Yangtze river, let my veins open up– tributaries to the wild. Wine-soaked skin, a miracle like Jesus performed at the wedding. Enough bliss to wash over the broken metronome. Would it keep moving under the current? Would it remember how to move if it almost drowned and was revived?
Summoning Leaves of Grass by Heather Ann Schmidt
I celebrate myself during the dawn’s tears on the soles of my feet like when you lie under a tree and petals fall on you and it feels like some heaven of light because of the aroma of lilac and this deeply colored world. I celebrate when my irises open up and catch the flecks … Read more
Afterbirth by Heather Ann Schmidt
She left me & I was hollowed out– carved heirogliphics on my insides made from the scar tissue of birth. But the ghosts stayed & would not go out into the world even though I tried to blow them out with my cries. & so I starved the fear out & my bones began to … Read more
a b c d e oh so f u c k it has to be
i wish i had amnesia. here’s a brick. anyone?
After Rejection by Howie Good
I stopped at a yard sale. The woman nodded hi. There were many odd items – matted hair from the heads of madmen, baby clothes that had been worn by a miniature pinscher, a jar of eyeball jelly. I asked about the typewriter. She said it had spent its whole life up to now in … Read more
The Ethics of Ambiguity by Howie Good
1 Sometime during the night someone redrew the town line with a length of string and a piece of chalk. There are footprints that might be clues. A detective in an ancient derby sighs and crouches down. Some of the footprints belong to the green gloom of evening, some to ambiguous silence. 2 It’s another … Read more
