Issue 38 – Poetry

My Sister’s Last Gift
by Joe Benevento

Memories seem more fragile and so
authentic in black and white. 


School Year
by Joe Benevento

When a child, I understood the season
of dying coinciding with the start
of school.


How Poppies Grow
by Elizabeth J. Coleman

The last time I saw
his silhouette in that red-


One Way of Looking at Grace
by Elizabeth J. Coleman

For 150 million years birds saw
their reflections only in the sea,


by Stephen Gibson

Richard Avedon
            The real shocker is the celebrity and not the nude.


by Ernest Hilbert

Coffee did little to wake us since we arrived
On the volcano. We only wanted to sleep.


What I Did Not See Driving from Swansea
by Sarah Kennedy

Not the grave of Henry Vaughan, tombed
           by the yew at the top of that

tourists’ churchyard,


The Sheela-na-Gig at Llandrindod Wells
by Sarah Kennedy

In her glass coffin,
                                                she’s surrounded—


The Apprentice Pillar
by Sarah Kennedy

The legend of course involves great desire,
pursuit, a gift from God, predictable,
final violence.  


beloved 5
by Donald Kuspit

love rises like a phoenix


beloved 6
by Donald Kuspit

let us imagine
                       that we’re unimaginable,


beloved 7
by Donald Kuspit

agree to disagree
                     that mind unfold
its wings,


beloved 8
by Donald Kuspit

             the underbrush
of nuance


The Sign of Steel
by Salgado Maranhão. Translated by Alexis Levitin.


Zip Street Blues
by Salgado Maranhão. Translated by Alexis Levitin.


by Salgado Maranhão. Translated by Alexis Levitin.


Letter to Daniel G. Hoffman
by John Ridland

There are dead poets I would never dare
               to write a letter to:
“Dear Mr. Frost?” “Dear Mr. Eliot?”


by David R. Slavitt

The poison in a mushroom does it no good. 
It doesn’t know, nor does the fellow who eats it,
but he will find out.  


Pythagoras in Crisis
by Lee Slonimsky

It’s just a mood, perhaps, but he stands stunned,
the densest woods so asymmetrical:


Pythagoras’s Broken Abacus
by Lee Slonimsky

To disentangle chaos is his task
this morning in deep woods.  Secluded glade,
where birdsong is intense. 


Sheb Wooley
by R.T. Smith

Now I don’t care who hears me laughing,
content for the moment to be a yodeling fool


Sergeant John Ordway’s Journal, Last Entry
by R.T. Smith

                                                Looking back,
I am satisfied I saw enough for one mortal,
man, especially the devilish mosquitoes.


Summoning Japan
by Elaine Terranova

Instruction, what I sought. Not from the beginning as would require study, reading, deep thought, the string of something you follow until it’s exhausted, but no, only scatter shot.


Canto V: The Forest of Humbaba
by Lewis Turco