Oct/Nov 2001

e c l e c t i c a   p o e t r y



Special Feature -- Word Poems

Poems containing the words splatter, grip, hazel and midnight.
Includes a special invitation for the next issue.


Two Poems

I made a call on the rotary
to a fat man in the city
with an anchor branded under his collar
he reminds me of a terrible walrus

Laird Barron



The morning stretches out in front
Of you like a clean white sheet

Kristy Bowen



They're poison,
she chuckled like an old gretelwitch,
don't let your momma eat them.

Joseph Carcel


How much it hurts

A small boy stood motionless
beside her,
still as a fist

David Clum


Every Girl Needs A Cinnamon Stick

she maps weather predictions,
writing the temperature on the palm
of her hand

Alison Daniel


Heat Sick

if the heat makes
a difference in how long
you cook the rice

Sarah Freeborn


Two Poems

I want you
to tell me when to lift
the blank between us

C. Garza


Before the Apocalypse

Hands crawl around to clutch at the wing-bone
remnants of his shoulder blades,
and she leaves crescent indentations
where her fingernails landed.

Laura Goldblatt


the woman at the checkout

normal in every way, except
for her fingernails, yellow
like a dog's tooth

Allen Itz


Sonnet to the Age

Remember loins and mounds and finger thrums
That traced and trembled, tongues that swept

John Kidd


Three Poems

The neighbor's cat
knows I don't belong.

Rebecca Lu Kiernan


A Curse for Modern Times

May you wait in the still night for the second
muffled sound outside your window, the next creak
of the roofbeam, the attic pressing blackly down
above your room

Sharon Kourous


I'd Like to Think (Post 911)

I like to think my motive
would have had nothing at all to do
with rumors of the ecstasy, however brief,
that accompanies such leaps

Barbara F. Lefcowitz



I want to be Vasco De Gama on your body--
to sail your eastern hemisphere

Ines Lopes


Turning 65 in Montana

Can this gnarled, scarred fist be mine?
Mottled in a shaft of sunlight,
it sticks out of my sleeve

Walt McDonald


Two Poems

Something's not right about the lamp
on the bedside table;
it flickers--two for yes, one for no

Mark Melton



I learned a long time ago
that cats are sneaky
with their love.

Daniel A. Olivas



Hit the old magic road
open like flowers with
Dust all golden

Summer Robinson



a word so full they touch it only
lightly as if it might burst

Alec Solomita


For Weasel Eyes Only!

See these markings, grandpa said.
These markings are meant for another weasel.

Bob Thurber


At the Zoo

A peacock flares its plume,
shooting eyes into the air,
and struts.

Alexis Vergalla


As If (Lara's Story)

He said for her the music had
Stopped at about 4:00 the previous night.

Alessio Zanelli


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