It’s Raining Again by Lynn White

It’s Raining Again by Lynn White The weather god doesn’t speak Welsh. She’s tried. She’s really tried. She’s wept tears of frustration. She’s wept tears of anger. She’s wept tears of sadness that flow from the mountains to the sea. It’s the vowels she finds hard. And the consonants. And the mutations. And the wayContinue reading “It’s Raining Again by Lynn White”

Shifting, Too Anxious to Be Fully Aware by Jonathan Yungkans

Shifting, Too Anxious to Be Fully Aware by Jonathan Yungkans            after John Ashbery What could I say of a young Polish woman that January? I was barely a year into college, on my first time abroad, felt out of my depth. She worked the hotel dining room, met me forContinue reading “Shifting, Too Anxious to Be Fully Aware by Jonathan Yungkans”

Semuc Champey by Lorraine Caputo

Semuc Champey by Lorraine Caputo The frothing river tumbles over boulders       through crevasses before it disappears under the rock bridge spanning this gorge From the limestone cliffs jungle cascades down to the water’s edge Streams wend through its growth to fill         & fall pool to deep turquoise pool atop theContinue reading “Semuc Champey by Lorraine Caputo”

Manzanita Lake by Penelope Moffet

Manzanita Lakeby Penelope Moffet Shallow Sierra lake more sun-warmed than mostthough still fed by snow-melt. Maybe mild in summerbut not in late September, sun ready to go down,water mirroring trees and mountains. I edge in,feet sliding over stones and muck, skincringing into liquid cold enough to form another skin.He says to himself, “Am I doingContinue reading “Manzanita Lake by Penelope Moffet”

Julene Tripp Weaver, Finding a Fal Café in Istanbul

Finding a Fal Café in Istanbulby Julene Tripp Weaver We drink healing sherbets—small aperitif drinks servedin shot glasses before a meal,between courses—a palate cleanser.Recipes from the Ottoman dynasty,fruit or flower petals: corneliancherry, grapes, roses, red poppy                                 sherbets.We try Turkish coffee,Continue reading “Julene Tripp Weaver, Finding a Fal Café in Istanbul”

Karlu Karlu by Marilyn Humbert

Karlu Karlu by Marilyn Humbert The cold, razor wind of July scarves and scars the round red rocks, eucalypt leaves sigh in a modulated minor key. Burnt upright sticks cast slender shadows and untouched silk white boles flash in the ghost light of star fall. He pads soundless, wild and unkempt, dew dipped hair gleamsContinue reading “Karlu Karlu by Marilyn Humbert”

You Could Have…by Ivanka Radmanović

You Could Have… by Ivanka Radmanović Among the blooming rosemary soaked by the rain, under bewildering domes of black cypresses, with your face bleached by the storm and your hair in waterfalls, barefoot you walk along the old path, down the ancient stone stairs, avoiding stepping on soaked fig leaves, glued to the ground. behindContinue reading “You Could Have…by Ivanka Radmanović”

The Breathing Burren by Maureen Grady

The Breathing Burren by Maureen Grady There is a world apart, of elemental beauty carved by glacier, where tiny wildflowers pierce through limestone. No trees grace this rare realm, a silver stone land with not enough water to drown, nor earth to bury, but fauna and flora half-hidden, abundant. Only here on the vast crustContinue reading “The Breathing Burren by Maureen Grady”

Winter, Lower Longley, Tasmania by Rafaella Del Bourgo

Winter, Lower Longley, Tasmania by Rafaella Del Bourgo with a butter knife I scrape frost off the inside of the kitchen windows and there they are again cow faces with their dark eyes noses breathing steam feet stamping in the snow like the lamb from the farm up the hill and the black cat theyContinue reading “Winter, Lower Longley, Tasmania by Rafaella Del Bourgo”

Ghosts in the Garden by Andrena Zawinski

Ghosts in the GardenEpistle from The Battery, Charleston, South Carolinaby Andrena Zawinski From the city carriage house, from my window inside the piazza,from here I think I hear them. And there are two of them movingabout below inside a shuffle of whispers. There is a girlish burstof giggles lilting Gullah tongues. I imagine them there,Continue reading “Ghosts in the Garden by Andrena Zawinski”