Jul/Aug 2012

e c l e c t i c a    p o e t r y


(These are excerpts—click on the titles to view the complete poems)


Special Feature
The Word Poem feature is taking a hiatus this issue.
If you'd like to participate for the Oct/Nov issue, the words are still trigger, scrap, steam, and platinum.


so many years apart and always
there's room for more dead
Simon Perchik


People cautiously folded back
Glass sheets and glass bedspreads,
Slid gingerly out of glass beds
Ken Poyner


Deus in Machina
The pipes
began to hiss, as if to themselves, like a reptile lullaby in iron.
John Dutterer


Roadside, US 64
Jesus, I believe,
waits in your mobile home, waits
for your praying knees.
Alicia Cole


Means of Dispersal
Hovering over phials of curiosity
Some rank with the rot of failure
Others yielding green secrets
Rae Spencer


Sign Watching
She waits for the flood like a sea-wife
willing the ocean to return her Captain.
Michelle McMullin


The Untitled
Bone brothers licked
clean of skin's misdirection.
The final white
lightning underground.
A B Datta


Two Poems
Around this time the sky birthed guilt
& it rained into your bones every day
Ruth Ann Baumann


Two Poems
How green is his wet grass and

how lovely under its sick black sky! The voice offscreen
is always a woman's
Christine Potter


Rape of the Sabine Woman
A young pigeon lights on her hand.
It preens when a boy points,
   sleeps when a Frenchman meows
Emma Sovich


A Lost Language
All. Everything.
And, as the last inhabitant fell still,
a language, too, was drowned.
Marjorie Mir


Tyto Alba
Tuesday morning my mother woke up to a murder of crows having a panic attack on the power lines that demarcate our front yard.
Alexandra Smyth


Car Horn
He hears it
in his monologue,
when he speaks for himself,
when he pronounces his fate
Joel Fry


Food Photography
Thinking this is nothing but art, my uncle clicked.
One after another.
Nandini Dhar


I see Jupiter just before dawn
So fat I think it's a helicopter hovering
Over bad traffic on the expressway
Pat Smith


This Relationship
You first
run next to the canvas like a poor
farm girl beside the train tracks
Corey Mingura


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