count my rings
By Vikki Wynne
they come to count my rings
to see if the numbers match
and measure my bands for proof
the years I was watered more
a single round
thinned by one’s drought
but still there, no doubt
the rescue efforts
made by a tribe
when they saw my value
stood by my side
through wind and hail
collecting my broken branches
to be put to use
and nourish my roots
in the earth’s decay
and where lovers carved their mark
into my outer rim
my bark grew over
shrank each scar
to the size
of a graceful lesson
on the impact of sharp objects
and sharper words
they see I skipped no seasons
the dark, the light
and admire the space between
they come to count my rings
Requiem for W.C. Hart
By Laura Johnson
1.
“The black cat is yawning,” she
sang with a lustre from craters,
“walking on the numbers,”
said another, but needn’t we get into what
Eliot ignored, just to see what the bull ate-
nevertheless we did. A great stupefaction
as the names and dates tuck us into
movement and locality
How much time is there left?
I feel warmed by a fallen branch
You were the bearer
of a glow in the
dark stars
that had created themselves.
I remember it was right before Thanksgiving, 2000
The new band played one of their first shows at Flicker
It was just one large piece of music
I remember singing of flight,
I remember the different members getting up
to play when it was their time. We went to
Harris Teeter afterwards. I had a jean jacket on
but still my “uncool” wire rims
Your voice was an exhaling bird and its wingspan all
the same
I didn’t know you as I don’t know many
who dot the hills
Are we still disguised
in the donkey across the desert?
Elephant and Donkey sure have a different meaning here…
2.
came to a hault
like nothing before
plywood on floor
cool surface to wood
the days slid
into place, everything is
calling. what will this shed?
we have arrived.
a lovely universe enclosed
but whispers are re-animated
it’s seeping out
and nothing
told us we needed
to do this, out here
in the rain. the view will forever shift
in its sameness. small apparitions
reveal the greater dna- glory be
3.
There was an unzipped opening
See what it colors it can
project and produce
Stay for the vibrations
But you were a bird, yes your flight
was a ledge on which other
birds could perch. Don’t fear
the elasticity. It’s the brutality that does it,
leaving us birds to scavenge
the crumbs
You connected to a room
It’s ready, it’s fast
The candles of the day
are permanently turned
around, turning inward
as you said, though it’s not
what the public thinks turning inward is
But what is turning outward
I said look at the naughty bird
in my first serious poem
You said “grow sideburns!”
Miles and miles,
out in the gypsum field
a medallion is mounted
A bird, scavenger noir
Something is awry
But the sundial arrives
at the exacted moment
You charter something which both
day and night revealed and that which is beyond
Permanence of movement
4.
The inner revolutions
Highlighted
Never sapped
Renewed- like a brush rubbing up
against a wall
My Vow
By Philosophy
I vow to give myself more credit
Never again will I edit my own history
Like my hands and feet aren’t blistering
From my efforts.
My whole chest hurts from pressing the bench far away from my mind
Trying to be one of a kind
While you stand in line
Lyin’ with the generational line,
About all they would do if they had your time. Your age.
Like theirs makes them sage
Giving them legal right to dismiss your accomplishments
Like he she they aren’t your opposites
I got receipts for the progress of my dream
Tell me where are your documents?
Are they over there by those flies, buzzing around the sh** you give me because you can’t face
your own bitterness?
Now I’m forced to wear the cape of your shame
Because you’re afraid I’ll end up like you and be more of the same
Or maybe you’re intimidated by the height of my aim
Because if I reach my goals it invalidates all the excuses you claimed
You tax me because you’re unhappy
And I’m over it
It took a while but I checked my file
And sobered with
The revelation that no matter how much you try and dog me out
I am not your Doberman
But I do have the heart to breed
The life of my dreams
Regardless of what you do and do not believe
New Year’s Prayer
By Maisy Diaz
Give in to visions of all to come,
bless the sofa, bless the stovetop,
bless the ground beneath you.
Wave after wave of hope, of big ask
runs wild just underneath the surface
and twists and multiplies and hums,
Give in. I know you see it too,
after the Christmas pageant with the singing babies,
after the last rash of snow from its angry cloud-flame,
after a moment of glory for the fir tree,
and you’re standing outside the show in your warmest coat.
Bless the coffee table, bless the bathmat
Bless the faucet, bless.
Understand you will be delivered into
new sets of hands over and over again.
Understand anything could happen if
every now and then it rains in Mesa,
then bless the TV set and the front porch,
I don’t know the next part, I love you.
Schoolgirl fight-picker, nervous young buck,
I don’t know what comes next, I love you.
O big toothless dog, O gold-medal-ribbon-grand-prize-winner,
I love you, I love you, I love you.
Bless the collards with the shield-shaped greens,
the champagne with its tiny smashing bubbles,
the next birthday and the wild-eyed crying futurebaby.
As for the gold crossettes with their long sparkling tails —
send them screaming into the shivering midnight!
Stand straight, listen, it’s still humming, still moving.
Give in, buck up,
bless the air around you.
It’s all waiting. It’s wide open.
I look at you and I see the future.
this after that
By Steve Piazza
it’s never too late
unless you’re convinced your life
is an empty bin in which you have little say
over how it becomes filled
in which case nothing matters
but of course it does
because you still pause
persistently craving
wide-eyed in the overgrown grass
for what you intuit will come along
not necessarily as you’d imagine
you can always imagine a lot more
and a lot less
a patient pretext to all you may create
as it elapses into what you can recall
staying any sudden unreeling reactions
with self control to stare down self awareness
practicing poised and ready to pounce
because what holds you in suspense
may remain a mystery
but also a joy that’s kindly along for the ride until
the next act
J Harrison
1. Staring through the rain
I see the cars and people.
I think some years back:
Yes, I’ve seen this view before.
Back then, you were here with me.
2. It’s the hottest day
The city has seen in years
Keep my hand-pockets
And head down to the city
No eye-contact on Fridays
3. Before the sunrise
I tell myself I’ll drink it
A cup of coffee
Sits there on my windowsill
Never sees destination
4. The stairwell has dents.
Didn’t know that could happen.
I think this building
Could outlive me and my peers.
In that case, is it nature?
5. Darkness settles in
A leaf falls from two stories
Two cars mangle up
The leaf is none the wiser
It continues its descent
On a Wing and A Prayer
By Kathryn Kyker
Clouds came down to hug us
turning the day dove gray
softening the impact
I walk to yoga in the rain
my hair tucked inside my hood
Drifting through the day as if
under the bubble umbrella
I had as a child, a toadstool shield
I carry into the world
Protected
I hold triangle pose
to bend, to balance, to anchor
A mantra of breath
The sky is full of chatter
voices I recognize
Starlings back
from wherever they go
The surprise of yellow
gifted by the gingko
the dingy sidewalk gleaming
with golden fans
A lesson comes like communion
placed on my tongue
dissolves into me
cracking me open
Walking home from dinner
in a vesper of mist
the city lights left behind
we’re holding hands
and I don’t know who took whose
how you snuck under my bubble umbrella
Prayers, prayers, prayers
raining down
streaked with love.
Untitled
By Philosophy
I owe myself an apology
For letting other people’s perception question my introspection.
I let them- demonize my whys to bury their lies on top of my wise.
How dare I… let them audit me.
Destabilize a solid me.
After I fought to be Philosophy.
I looked through them and sought for me
But now I know….
My truth cannot be taught to me.
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