Go back!
I have no
response to your
warmth, your
nearly bursting buds,
hundred-legged crawlies.
Can’t you quiet the birds?
My words have
turned dormant in your
joy.
More from Issue #3
Separate Song by Tim Gardiner
Four a.m. again, and you’re bursting into beautiful melody. Chirping cheerily from the gutter, awake, and not tired, yet sometimes I wish you’d shut up. Misty glass separates joy and sorrow the…
Robin Had No Speed Limit by Michael Mark
You needed to see him in concert with a group to tell each other later what was so funny your ears couldn’t keep up your mind couldn’t keep up your breath couldn’t…
Visit to Fern Hill by Byron Beynon
I walked there, following the road three miles or so out of Llansteffan’s reach. That unhurried summer the tranquil Tywi flowed through high August country as the abundant sun made salt, soon…
The Purpose of a Flower by Michael Mark
is not to attract a bee or praise, or decorate the bride, or say what words can’t. As it is, in its own seed, beneath the dirt, about to bloom, after its…