Linda Bierds – Metamorphosis: 1680
out how it began.
The peonies, too heavy with their beauty,
slump to the ground. I had hoped
Ciara Shuttleworth – Police Statement
The morning we watched Jesus,
there was no fog. For weeks,
oil was tracked up and down Great Highway’s
sidewalk—a tanker spill had closed the beach
Cintia Santana – Hum
throat I hear
In the back room of a secondhand bookshop on Printer’s Row, I leafed through a stack of nineteenth-century topographic maps spread out on a table and weighted with a stone. I was the only customer in the store, and though he’d checked my bag when I entered, the desk clerk hardly glanced my way.
Poetry Diary: a nice September poem.
Freya Manfred – Green Pear Tree in September