by Rickey Rivers Jr. Her shoulder was stained with tears of another. Leaning tower of friendship. His shoulder was stained with tears of his mother. Leaning tower of family. Rickey Rivers Jr. was born and raised in Alabama. He is a writer and cancer survivor. His poetry has appeared in Former Cactus, the Ginger Collect, Vamp Cat Magazine, Read More
Tag: poetry
Calle Neptuno, La Habana
by Ray Ball, PhD My ankle wobbles as I step on the uneven textures of the street and sidewalks. In the afternoon heat the trash piled high shimmers in the intersections of Centro Havana. A sign reads: do not litter! But a man tosses an Read More
Masters
by Gale Acuff When I can’t fall asleep I think about my dog, Caesar, run over long ago – thirty-two years it’s been: I spend the night at a friend’s house. My father picks me up next day, and, halfway home, at a yield sign, where Post Oak Tritt runs into Sandy Plains, Son, your dog was hit by a Read More
The Pluralist’s Dry Outer Ear
by Colin James Discipline is a line of taut bums, soliloquies for the seated. Conformation has arrived. The cart driver will be waiting at the train station gate. It is a short journey to the castle. You are expected. Introduce yourself generally. Delve into the claret. The youngest daughter may wake you in your twin bed as you sheepishly sleep Read More
Sociopathy in Starbucks
by Kristin Garth It can happen anywhere to women even in the coffee shop where you write, employees so polite you are given a Christmas card, wee tree, evergreen bright inked signatures, iced sugar cookies that they know you like. You think I have a space maybe I have to pay for, little chit-chat between the sonnets, look up, see Read More
I Just Wanted to Feel Normal
by Lamar Neal Those who were supposed to love me Walked me to death’s door, in Jesus’s name. I was a young child who couldn’t see And those prayers weren’t helping my shame. I was always a little different But no I was not made incorrectly. I didn’t care I was Heaven spent I just wanted to feel sanity. Sometimes, Read More
Elephant Pond
by Ashley Bullen-Cutting curving slats cross sorrel watersdirty replication in a surface shared with the swaying of green truncated souls stop midwayperceptions pricked to mistral conversehoary spectral splashing veteran oaks storify in squeaksrecollecting ashen anatomiesquesting elephantidae snouts little ones gawp and clapinfant hands pokingbetween vertical boardsreaching for the past Note from the author: The Elephant Pond is a lovely habitat Read More
Moveable Feast
by Ray Ball, PhD In memory of Jan During her funeral, which I could not attend, I wondered why there are so few Moveable Feasts. She told me once, while we were doing something mundane, like getting frozen yogurt at TCBY, that one of them is the day of St. Sarkis. That Christian general who marched to Antioch, but realized Read More
Cliché in Blue
by Juliette Sebock He hates cliché, so it makes sense that we’re anything but. No Romeo, no Juliet, a rose is just a rose and the violets stay purple, never blue. Then again, neither are we— blue, that is. How could I be blue when I’m standing with you? As a matter of fact, I’m happy as a clam. Your Read More
The quality of protecting
by Ray Ball, PhD The centertastes likecoconut,drunk as a delicacy.In the moonthe apocalypseof fruit.Inside it,the absence.They requirestrength.It seems incredible that they cancontain whateverI know.And that Iand theyare softin texture. Note from the author: This is a found poem. The original text is Jane E. Mangan’s critical edition of José de Acosta’s Natural and Moral History of the Indies. Ray Ball, Read More