Sunday, March 29, 2020

Lines

by Christina Chin

wind dies
a coconut branch snags
the bullfinch kite

After Bonnie

by José Stelle

Moon out and a forced lull.
No woozy waterspout
Dragging the fractured sea
To a dark rage.

The hacked, wrecked hulls
Heaped on the shore
Loom like whale bones
In a strange glow.

The well bottom is shorn
Of the fleece clouds.
Only some scattered planets
Make a pale show.

Across the water
The dock lights drown
In their own reflections.

All around, demented
Crickets scrape their wings off.

Lines

by Veronika Zora Novak

weeping
till we no longer dream . . .
winter koi

Wednesday, March 25, 2020

Lines

by Roberta Beach Jacobson

late December
shivering spirits
of the cornfields

Sunday, March 22, 2020

Lines

by Padmini Krishnan

patch of blue
amongst dark clouds
the hidden hyacinth

Winter’s Afternoon, Garden Valley, Idaho

by Yash Seyedbagheri

Up Sunrise Drive
sun illuminates hills of white
air crisp and still
shadows of pine trees zigzag in leftover snow
road rises and dips and curves

Blank Look #819

by Carl Mayfield

      no post card
      can do it:
                   mountain peak
                   knowing where to stop

Wednesday, March 18, 2020

Squirrel Selecting Bouquet

by Wesley D. Sims

A squirrel sits upright
on hind legs amid a patch
of lavender, lilies, and goldenrod
as though trying to select
a bouquet to pick and take home
to his out-of-sorts mate,
needing to make up
for his horrible habits
like hoarding the acorns,
leaving a mess of hulls
scattered around the house
and other irritable actions
constantly driving her nuts.

Sunday, March 15, 2020

Lake Morey

by Corey D. Cook

Red and white bobber pins the sky’s
reflection to the surface of the lake,
an expanse of light blue borrowed
from Sisley, crowded with schools
of clouds, their bellies round and ripe.

Blank Look #302

by Carl Mayfield

Standing on the escarpment,
city pollution at eye level.

In the valley below fossil fuels
are pushing their weight around.

Winter

by Craig Kennedy

Gregorian chant, burning wood,
the midnight blue Croton River
frozen thick and bittersweet,
congealed near Orchard Road.

Wednesday, March 11, 2020

Overwinter

by Kathryn Ganfield

Canada geese break their vee
into a sine curve.
Four lag behind, beating hard to regain the flock
that wends northeast on a winter afternoon.

Geese or ganders, identical,
whether near or far.
Wings a gauntlet gray,
heads stretched and black like asps.

In the air,
bright and ceaseless honks,
capped only by a downy woodpecker,
its head a slice of Red Delicious.
Knocking, knocking,
rapping, bashing.
Not too loosen insects, but because
this is the only song they sing.

Sunday, March 8, 2020

Lines

by Carl Mayfield

soaring raven painting the sky black

City Street Performance

by M.J. Iuppa

This winter there will be
no winter—only snow

mixed with rain— the filthy
kind of slush that gets thick

in the smear of wheels
spinning around corners—

all vowels stick
as pedestrians arch

their backs & raise
their arms, like pigeons

dispatched—not
a moment too soon.

Lines

by Susan N Aassahde

snow crumpet plaza
nettle mash
rain stalactite dentist

Wednesday, March 4, 2020

Pima Canyon Sunday

by David Chorlton 

Cactus wrens mark distance by their calls.
Winter sparrows come out
from seclusion, and the sun
is a spirit clock at noon.
The desert trail’s a pilgrim’s
way, where lizards cling to
the rocks and every
Curve-billed thrasher has a tiny Compostela
in the cactus where it makes a nest.

Sunday, March 1, 2020

Lines

by Christina Chin

desert superbloom
the call of skylark
sitting in the sun

Lines

by Veronika Zora Novak

shaped
by mountain fog . . .
a raven's caw

Lines

by Andre Le Mont Wilson

coyote darts
across Bear Creek Road
faces the sun