The Back Forty ~ Laurie Klein

  I think about things, while walking— like the number forty: Pat Tillman’s retired red jersey or winks in a power nap, the Bible’s wilderness days of temptation, direct dial code for Romania, full-time work, the days of Lent, not to mention the negative point where Fahrenheit matches Celsius, or Venus in retrograde, and the […]

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Phone Calls in Dreams ~ Dennis Trujillo

  I’ve no problem with relatives, both living and departed, visiting my dreams such as last night when Uncle Fred dropped by my cell in a Mexican jail and brought a corned-beef sandwich. Nor is it a bother when childhood friends enter my dreams and challenge me to tetherball at our old elementary. I even […]

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Mountains ~ Robin Chapman

  Boom of the avalanche cannons as warm winds layer the snow with ice, loosening the pack here on the steep mountainsides where snowboarders flow over the moguls and down the slopes— in their packs small GPS chips signaling their location, whether it’s the Sunshine slopes, Rundell Coffee Shop, or an engulfing tide of snow. […]

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Autothanatography ~ Julie Marie Wade

 for Annette Allen I think of the mail, how eager I am to receive it, though there are mostly ads & bills & coupons for things I’ll never buy. I think of the sun parting the white grain of the curtains, & the stamp of her feet on the stairs— that woman in blue with […]

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Modus Operandi ~ T.R. Hummer

  The veteran sits like an ancient statue at noon +++++under the Ponderosas, white and fragmentary. His war is lifetimes past. His caretakers roll him and leave him +++++in the park. Today they have him surrounded By small airplanes. What does he not remember +++++about dismemberment? Now, one by one he launches them Into the […]

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Two Seeds ~ Elizabeth Rees

  A bed, like a field, is open to weather: too much rain will bruise the fruit. To plant thanks, to sing to plenty, I will trickle seeds over your head. Too much rain will bruise the fruit. White lilies lean below the water while I trickle seeds over your head, I watch night close […]

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6.9 Off Humboldt Bay ~ Jeff Ewing

  Far from shore the ocean floor ripples, shrugs and steals our footing, skews the horizon from its beam. A single wave larger and darker touches the beach where elk turn to look out, ears cocked, hooves raised and trembling. Inland dust rises like a rug shaken out, hazes the sky strung loosely from mountain […]

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