STEPHEN WILSON All year long I’ve been waiting on the promise of a light green cocoon whose size increased in almost imperceptible increments its tepals unable to free themselves yet always on the point of budburst as if something inside…
KRYSTYNA LENKOWSKA Fragility You say that the earth we touch is only a landslide. We walk along the ridge of the tongue where homes grew with a hearth in the heart. We don’t know what happened to them later. Maybe…
RICHARD BERENGARTEN For Alastair Reid Finnegan wakes and walks in briny air. Gulls wheel and gannets dive. The cliffs are bare. The coast is clear. And nobody is there. He’d dreamed a corner of his dream again might touch his…
GERMAIN DROOGENBROODT Left in the grey air as unfulfilled desires smoke of cremation * Hankering for dawn but it won’t rise for them corona victims * The blackbirds wonder why the streets are so empty sorrowful their songs * A…
GEORGE GÖMÖRI In the whole of New York what I liked best was the tree: that tree with its dense foliage spreading its arms up there on the roof, green and abandoned as the everyday miracle that is the created…
YUAN CHANGMING Raging against the Crow in the Park Disguised as a pigeon, you’ve just had Enough food From my palm (& heart); then, you flap high up Beginning to circle above me, ready To flee away only after Shitting…
ANNA STELLA SCERBO Emily Dickinson lived on poetry, poetry was her Pole star, her only reason to live. In mid 19th century Massachusetts, education had hard puritan rules. Emily suffered from that situation but claimed and got freedom without striking…
