Jul/Aug 2001 Poetry

e c l e c t i c a  
s p e c i a l   f e a t u r e


Last issue, the editors and several former contributors were given four words (velvet, carnival, window, and pregnant) and asked to use them in a poem. We had so much fun that for this issue, we invited our readers to join in, using four new words (parallel, espresso, whisper, and eight). Thanks to all who participated! The selected poems follow.

If you would like to participate in the next special poetry assignment, the four words are splatter, grip, hazel and midnight. Send your poem to editors@eclectica.org by September 1, 2001.


On Market St. in Denver

I am still waiting for the 209,
as two girls chasing nothing
in particular run by on the walk
paralleling this stop's bench.

Nick Barrows



She's growing some breasts
that pack like stolen meat
beneath her t-shirts

Tara Brever


When Becky Went to Paris

His whiskers grew that summer
like the corn he planted
the week after she left.

Tom Dooley


Medea at the Espresso Bar

In a parallel world I did not go mad.
That isn't to say that the seeds
were never planted

Jennifer Finstrom


Still Life, Coffee House

Thursday morning moves on its
parallel tracks of light

Taylor Graham


Spouse Joins Military

last year I planted parallel rows of bulbs,
but the bastard tulips won't whisper pink,
just shriek fuschia all over my lawn

Julie King


The Fire, the Word, the Unfilled

This is chemistry, the transformation
of one form to another—the espresso's
steam, the tear's
residue, light whispering across the field.

Bob Wolfkill


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