INSIDE THIS ISSUE:
Geoffrey Philp
Chris Lord
Duane Locke
Shutta Crum
Karyn M. Wolven
Joseph McNair
Gerald Clark
Paul B. Roth
Fred Wolven
Alan Britt
Joanie Freeman
Jerry Blanton
Steve Beaulieu
Felino Soriano
Tolu Ogunlesi
Running Cub
Helen Losse
The snow falls now,
covers the ground
thick and silent.
Withered corn stalks
sag and twist
into the ground.
Remember how
we pressed angels
into these fields
where we were younger
and less afraid
of touching snowflakes
with our tongues
or hearing
the flutter of wings
in the cold night air?
Sometimes
we are children
only once.
Sometimes
we can't remember
when.
STEPPING OVER GERANIUMS
The morning hours fill with fog.
The distant rhythm of the river
reaches up to touch the brown earth
& tangled roots dangling
from a stagnant sky.
Water drips from the sink faucet
to the rusted enamel
& I wonder about vegetables
& love.
The small orange cat in the flower box
steps over geraniums,
alternating reds & pinks,
simple intervals
like counting yellowed shadows
across the kitchen wall.
RASPBERRIES & RAIN
I spend the afternoon alone
thinking of the young child
who picked
wild raspberries & blackberries
in the grassy fields
behind her house
saving none for later
when birds had stolen
the last ones
and the child
who watched her mother
plant purple irises
& orange tiger lilies
each spring.
I close my eyes
drenched in the shadows
of this afternoon.
I have forgotten
not to grow old.
I pull out weeds
searching for roots
words that have not
found life.
I will plant again
plunge my hands
into black, wet soil
into the dark womb
of birth
& preserve
the heirloom seeds.
But for this moment
I will remember the smell
of raspberries & rain
& flowers bending
into afternoons
alone.
Karyn M. Wolven, Biscayne Park, Florida