where is the river :: a poetry experiment

Amy Bagwell and Robert Martin Evans :: Six poems Elizabeth Robinson and Susanne Dyckman :: The Inanimates Pearl Pirie and Roland Prevost :: Five poems Valerie Coulton and Edward Smallfield :: Five poems

* When I look to the past, I see only perplexing things: a flask emptied by thirst                                              miniature beckoning mouths,   as sleepless as open eyes   ( where is the compass?) Embracing the whole garden first, then holding the parts close                                                 So I went on the whole night– Reverie leaving a mark on skin, small burst of a whisper, a cloudy puff—                                                 fetal burden in the eye * She calls to me: real               ...

Allison Chisholm :: Four poems Janelle Cordero :: Four poems Ian Martin :: Five poems Hugh Behm-Steinberg :: From an end is the towards to Elizabeth Robinson :: Six poems Randy Prunty :: Two poems Mike Ferguson :: Three poems

Afternoon The day reclined, declined, opined.   Light on the grass.   The want of grass on the bald soil.   The shine of it.   A sign.   Simple.   What resists being defined, wanting more. Healing Simile As long as two bodies lay parallel in a bed.   As long as tea cools.   So long as the body sways to soften pain, like the body, into the body, over the body.   Respite like a preposition, sweating through it.   Like something hovering above itself, suffusing itself.   Like hands whose fingers are parallel.   Or intertwined.    Like the exhaustion of recovery, loyal, as long as it sleeps beside itself. Cipher: pain is bland, and relief fraught. The body is a mind made of clods of soil. Digging.   The columbine pulled up from its earth, roots twitching. Blue Smith Corona So it came to pass.   The carriage returning, like so, on the typewriter.   So it cl...