Category: Poetry
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The Estates of Celibacy
Recon the traces of the literary prints, surrender the senses to the elementary scents; No smell, nor beauty, nor resonance would strive, nor the quarrelsome pounding of the loving two’s drive. I, in some state of mind, will devour: those lines, sounding marvels and defining revelations empowered By names of unflagged peaks, anonymous to their…
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Arabic Coffee As A Treat
“Arapska kahva u Americi” Translated From Croatian by Mario Frömml Abdullah is a student, originally from Saudi Arabia. He immigrated to America three years ago. I have never met a Saudi up until now. This one being a student, soon to defend his Master’s thesis on the topic of underage delinquency and child abuse in…
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The Parade
Thesis, my parade of visions Chariots doing donuts in the light cut away the dangles, I am no longer attached to them attached yet to me, as my eyes begin to pin Maestro Geppetto forgot to tell me that he made me out of wood in a world of flesh-made things i did the best…
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What I do is me: the sonnet
I recently attended a Jeffersonian dinner where we all brought sonnets and read them aloud in turn. We had a lovely time with Shakespeare, Keats, and a crowd-sourced cento. I might or might not have asked the class—er, table of adults—what the two types of sonnets are. I’m incorrigible. To wit: the sonnet is a…
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Mother at Home
Off the bus from school, / the picture window’s curtain is drawn. / So, you’re there on the couch. / I can hear the sound of soft moaning / before I go in. Say: I’m home. Hello. Goodbye. Ask: Can I tell you that I’m sick, / because sick / is what you are? /…
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Out of Lethe
I awake into the midst of life, half spent and losing ground. The blue is turning over my head. Words are wan and shuddering. I see someone I should have known but their face is void and scattered. Sound…
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The Kindergarten
“Obdanište” Translated From Croatian by Mario Frömml Within a year and five months I did not spot scruffy mutts holding up dumpsters growling under the bridges over a tossed bone over a dry hideaway howling sadly around the kindling neither rabid bitches roaming the streets at odd hours biting at everything crossing them nor an…
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Circling the Light
Through the mechitza, that guardian of modesty, I watch brothers, father, plus grandfather dance, They grow wings while spiraling with our Torah. Under the chuppah, sandwiched between imot, I twirl around my chatan. We’ll foster a home From the covenant and our worship of Hashem. Eyes fastened, I pull my fingers toward me, My Shabbat…
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An Island in West Point Lake
The brown sheet tangled with the wind flutters for a milelapping at my ankles a hungry dog of a lakehush-whispered calling for my orange red toes to liftlaunching from the squelching mud of my own young earthAnd they do For an isolated heaven of pine tree lonenesssinging in the dropping July sun among unborn wavesNow…
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Art of Timothy F. Phillips
Timothy F. Phillips frames his vision of his artwork with bright foliage so his skies glimmer and his moons glow in and evening hue. In a careful analysis of Timothy’s paintings, one of the first things we notice is that his subjects are a little slanted or off tilt. For him, the words of Grandma…
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Bee
Nectar – extractionOf temple techniquePetals AjarHeathen spiral to theInner scarSoliciting leg-clotsOf soft bronzeEgg-yolkCloying sinnerSegmentedExoskeletonTiny breadwinner Featured Download: For a quick tutorial on how to write your own poetry so that it sings like Elizabeth Wing’s BEE, click here.
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The New Day Comes Quietly in the Apex of the Night
Out of The showerButtering the wetSkin With melon-scented lotion SoftSnow outside And the heaterOverworking The oldBlind woman Sticks her fingersIn my eyesAnd forgetWhat I was saying Roommate washing her underwearIn the sink This is theTime beforeThe earth cracks open Featured Download: For a quick tutorial on how to write your own poetry so that it…