by Felipe Restrepo The beauty of this experience Is not knowing when magnificence will appear. Two weeks ago we stumbled, fell, and bled With mud and sweat dripping down our face Along the march to our current place: An Earth-bound paradise; A world of grandiosity at every step And novelty along each turn. With the rising sun comes the howler’s deep roar, And with the waking of the stars, the anurans’ nightly song. A continuous cacophony of organic beasts, Each exemplifying its ability to thrive In a place where death is nigh. And yet the diversity of Life, Is relentless despite the strife. Tonight, alone in the canoe, Prostrate, as…

by Aaron Tooyak Whenever a certain sonata would play, My mother would share her cherished memories with me. She told me stories – making special note of her youth. I imagine her – peeking around a door. Listening from a distance, Her left eye shows, then both, then her whole tiny body. Her ears twitch as she watches her grandpa lead each ivory note to the next. Major, minor, white, black. Beautiful, soft notes. The grand piano sings through the experienced player. Forever imprinting sounds into my mother’s brain. The memory echoes through time – as it once did in that home. The imagery resurrects itself in my mind, as…

by Fischer Gangemi His footsteps disturb the sleeping trail It ponders this new arrival as it has every new season He does not know what it is that calls him to this endless place The man’s steps wind onward towards everything He pauses as his soul hears a new yet familiar sound It beckons over the roar of the silent Wilderness He peers around the corner through the shadowed quite little lives He sees nothing but knows regardless His steps come nearer and the familiar sound of the brook of irritation echoes stronger He bends cup in hand to quench his thirst with the fast water His cup stops and…

by Steve Rubinstein [divider] I was already worried when he took my hand to wipe at his tears. By then through the wall-high windows I noticed wet splatters, sleet, painted streets. He looked me over first to see if I was waiting on a friend, on a train, for him to move further away. The rain would not stop so he stood there dripping cursing the night; I would not talk so instead he sat down. October, selfish, had stolen the last bit of sun from the stripped down days left of autumn. I did not tell him, would not talk, did not ask when sun would come again, where…

by L.J. Bosela Merry’s Island In the distance, in the sun, I see an island, all in gold Where only silver winds can run Forgotten in times untold. If I might, I’ll go there And find at last my Long lost peace of mind.   Et Tu? There is a haze about the moon tonight Do you see it too? There is an aching in my heart tonight A void in my soul My thoughts are consuming me Do you feel it too?   Shades of Reality Shadows, occupying the tables Watching over raised books The masses of the living Who dwell in shades of reality. Shadows, never speaking up…

by L.J. Bosela Good King Wenceslas looked out On the Feast of Stephen When the snow lay round-about Deep and crisp and even, Brightly shone the moon that night Though the frost was cruel When a poor man came in sight Gathering winter’s fuel.   The snow still lies so soft and white And the frost still bites cruel The poor men are all about But where is the Good King? Have we all forgotten then That no matter what we be We should not forsake Our brothers who still need?   Joy to the world, the Lord is come Let earth recieve her King Let every heart  Prepare him…

by Nick Treinen There are galaxies in these pots, Says Tom and we watch sparks Cluster with stars as they whirl From the chimney with abandon. Front stoke, side stoke, damper shut And let elm, cottonwood and pine brew In a whispering bed of coals that tremble In wait; the plotting volcanic bowels. Or is she a dragon? Anagama, Her gut gorged with pots, breathes out. Tumbleweeds wither and ashes rustle away. As the sun rises on the fourth day, The world stops to let light fill Chino’s plain. Crickets hold their notes; in their dens The coyotes are still. No smoke rises. A lone darkling beetle crawls into sight,…