Archives

Old Gods

by on Jul 20, 2015

Stars do not say goodnight

They are born in the dark
like new eyes of roses,

they come softly and madly
into the sky

We know their light
turned to eyes on the river

We found them one night,
and howled to the void

We see,
for they have given eyes to faces

And through eons they have torn
across light years of shadow

to find us,
to raise this planet out of night

The stars are dancing

In them we have witnessed
that same fire

that sings through bones,
that whispers eyes open

They do not say goodnight—

when they are old
they tear outward in every direction

claiming every object,
every atom,

and after all screams
there comes a reconvening—

eons of beauty
into inches of beautiful dust—

the stars do not say goodnight
to us.

 

—
Luis Neer is an alumnus of the creative writing program at the 2014 West Virginia Governor’s School for the Arts, and his poems have appeared in Maudlin House; Literary Orphans; Squawk Back; The Rain, Party & Disaster Society and elsewhere. He tweets @LuisNeer.

bindweed

by on Jul 16, 2015

[she is] morning-glory trailing twining
colony of veins

[she is] old fields
deep roots

[she is never] for another

 

::
note: this is an erasure/cut-up hybrid from a series-in-progress, working title: “[she is]: wildflowers of texas”. Source text: Geyata Ajilvsgi’s Wildflowers of Texas.

 

—
Robin Turner brings poem-making to schools, museums, and youth shelters, and serves as an online writing guide to homeschooled teens. Her work has most recently appeared in Anima Poetry, Red River Review, Referential Magazine, and the Porkbelly Press Emily anthology. She lives with her husband and a sweet old yellow cat along a wooded creek in East Dallas.

texas dandelion

by on Jul 15, 2015

high
erratic

[this girl is] lemon-yellow absent

sometimes narrow
and entire

a parachute in the wind

 

::
note: this is an erasure/cut-up hybrid from a series-in-progress, working title: “[she is]: wildflowers of texas”. Source text: Geyata Ajilvsgi’s Wildflowers of Texas.

 

—
Robin Turner brings poem-making to schools, museums, and youth shelters, and serves as an online writing guide to homeschooled teens. Her work has most recently appeared in Anima Poetry, Red River Review, Referential Magazine, and the Porkbelly Press Emily anthology. She lives with her husband and a sweet old yellow cat along a wooded creek in East Dallas.

common s[un]flower

by on Jul 14, 2015

solitary
rough
conspicuous at margins

[she is] empty stream banks and railroad tracks

a disturbed wild bird
a cultivated form

 

::
note: this is an erasure/cut-up hybrid from a series-in-progress, working title: “[she is]: wildflowers of texas”. Source text: Geyata Ajilvsgi’s Wildflowers of Texas.

 

—
Robin Turner brings poem-making to schools, museums, and youth shelters, and serves as an online writing guide to homeschooled teens. Her work has most recently appeared in Anima Poetry, Red River Review, Referential Magazine, and the Porkbelly Press Emily anthology. She lives with her husband and a sweet old yellow cat along a wooded creek in East Dallas.

Hidden Flowers

by on May 19, 2015

 

as children we would
hide, remove our headscarves
in the shade of the mimosa
we picked vibrant pink blossoms,
threaded them into our braids

 

—
Laura M. Kaminski grew up in northern Nigeria, went to school in New Orleans, and currently lives in rural Missouri. She is an Associate Editor at Right Hand Pointing; more about her poetry can be found at The Ark of Identity.

On the Nature of Beauty

by on May 15, 2015

Linda and I by the woodpile
entranced by a beautiful dragonfly—
green head and speckled body
caught in a spider web,
wings wrapped in sticky silver,
dangling in air from the shed roof.

As we begin to unwrap the dead jewel
it springs suddenly to life,
one wing freed, fluttering madly,
the other still ensnared.

As the dragonfly in a single movement
twists and is free, our cat Sara,
lurking nearby in the purple sage,
leaps an impossible distance

and inches from our startled faces
catches the dragonfly in her teeth,
runs into the yard as though
she were the most beautiful god
in the world.

 

—
Dane Cervine was nominated for a 2013 Pushcart Poetry Prize, won the 2013 Atlanta Review Poetry Prize, and the 2013 Morton Marcus Poetry 2nd Prize. His new book is entitled How Therapists Dance, from Plain View Press (2013), which also published his previous book The Jeweled Net of Indra.  His poems have been chosen by Adrienne Rich and Tony Hoagland for awards, and appeared in a wide variety of journals including The Hudson Review, The SUN Magazine, Sycamore Review, Catamaran Literary Reader, Red Wheelbarrow, numerous anthologies, newspapers, video & animation. Look for his essays at TriQuarterly, CONTRARY, and The Turning Wheel. Visit his website at Dane Cervine Writes

Holding the Moon

by on May 14, 2015

*
The child with a jar
is an emperor
in the eyes of other children
on a night filled with fireflies.

*
Fireflies are resilient
and even nature
is forgiving
when faced with a small boy holding
the moon in the palm of his hand.

 

—
Laura M. Kaminski grew up in northern Nigeria, went to school in New Orleans, and currently lives in rural Missouri. She is an Associate Editor at Right Hand Pointing; more about her poetry can be found at The Ark of Identity.

Fish in Bowls Are Like Bears in a Circus

by on May 13, 2015

Children, it’s been many summers
since I took you sailing across
Kaneohe Bay.

The glass bottom boat frightened,
then enthralled you,
when schools of yellow tang

rose beneath your feet
you pleaded for a net, a pole, but,

“fish in bowls are like bears in a circus,”
intoned the captain and I agreed.
You hated us a little for that.

Children, can I help you recapture your innocence?
I would reverse the boat,
trail a bowl through the deep cold blue.

You remember being bored only,
life jackets tied too tightly
across narrow chests.

You wanted to hold liquid sun
in your hands for a moment,
that’s all.

 

—
Trish Saunders began writing poetry after working as a journalist, technical writer, and caregiver for her aged parents. She has poems published or forthcoming in Silver Birch Press, Blast Furnace Press, Off The Coast, and Carcinogenic Poetry.