By Lisa Russ Spaar
Primitive angiosperm, genus prior even to bees,
“Think,” Aretha Franklin and Ted White, Aretha Now, Atlantic, 1968
By Tess Taylor
Now it is night again, child on my chest.I croon & my song drifts you toward rest.
By Paula Bohince
Very cold, like in a forest’s clearing, shadowed by grayboulders. Very cold, and the pipe organan enormous paternal tree, bleeding sap. The eye climbs and crossesand climbs again to take it in. The stainedglass casts gems onto the stone floor [...]
The lithograph hangsimmaculate, while the chestbeneath it gleams.
Vendors approaching men withwomen, holding out a solo rose, long-stemmed
When the fledgling fell from its nest, by meager attempt,by pinwheel descent,and lay, unguarded,
How a fuchsia blouse becomesbougainvillea, ora pair of greyhounds staggersinto abstraction, zigzag
By Kyle Dargan
This is not my making any ecstatic,
The blushed syllable it wore with its whole body,tawny rose-hip orbof antique origin,