New Orleans by Anne Whitehouse

New Orleansby Anne Whitehouse In this city the Church had dominion over the dead,but the dead would not stay buried.They rose up out of the groundwhen the river overflowed and the ground turned to water.Fevers, vapors, and miasmas circulated,the air so humid it was another form of water.Pale, wide, and muddy, the river loomed,and theContinue reading “New Orleans by Anne Whitehouse”

Indian Summer by David Dephy

Indian Summerby David Dephy That’s right, friends, it was an Indian summer.I was sitting in the New York’s taxi, as I wassitting in the hammock hanging on the waterfalland I was thinking about myself on the waterfall… “When we are not ourselves, we are killing ourselves,”I thought. “We are the lights when we are ourselves,butContinue reading “Indian Summer by David Dephy”

The World Book by Patricia Hooper

The World Book by Patricia Hooper When the woman in blue sergeheld up the sun, my motheropened the storm door, takingthe whole volume of Sinto her hands. The sunshown as a sun should,and we sat down at the tableleafing through silks and ships,saints and subtraction. We passedScotland and Spain, street-cars and seeds and eventhe Seven WondersContinue reading “The World Book by Patricia Hooper”

Koi Pond, Oakland Museum by Susan Kolodny

Koi Pond, Oakland Museumby Susan Kolodny Our shadows bring them from the shadows:a yolk-yellow one with a navy patternlike a Japanese woodblock print of fish scales.A fat 18-karat one splashed with gaudy purpleand a patch of gray. One with a gold head,a body skim-milk-white, trailing ventral finslike half-folded fans of lace.A poppy-red, faintly disheveled one,andContinue reading “Koi Pond, Oakland Museum by Susan Kolodny”

Doggie Diner, Geary and Arguello, 1969 by Vince Gotera

Doggie Diner, Geary and Arguello, 1969 by Vince Gotera Out of San Francisco night, the cool fog’s gray fingers caressing hills and houses, emerged, in chef’s hat and bowtie, the Dog, ten-foot-tall dachshund’s head in fiberglass. Tina, my first real high school girlfriend, and I entered through the shiny glass doors, holding hands, both in hippieContinue reading “Doggie Diner, Geary and Arguello, 1969 by Vince Gotera”

San Francisco by Richard Brautigan

San Franciscoby Richard Brautigan This poem was found written on a paper bag by Richard Brautigan in a laundromat in San Francisco. The author is unknown. By accident, you putYour money in myMachine (#4)By accident, I putMy money in anotherMachine (#6)On purpose, I putYour clothes in theEmpty machine fullOf water and noClothes It was lonely.Continue reading “San Francisco by Richard Brautigan”

London by Kim Whysall-Hammond

London by Kim Whysall-Hammond Emerging from the Tube you clothe me with dusty breath and ambient noise I feel you living restlessly lifeforce surging through centuries pulsing through busy streets I turn a corner and a garden churchyard filled with lunchers and tourists leads me to rest. When leaving you I reach down pet yourContinue reading “London by Kim Whysall-Hammond”

Syracuse at Dusk by Frances Daggar Roberts

Syracuse at Duskby Frances Daggar Roberts Seated at art-glass tablesby the muted tug of sea…lights across the bayand the feeling of centuriespreceding us.Battered bases to the buildingssome as old as Grecian conquest.Rough cobbled stonesand the evening stroll of families.Wine in our glasses slowly sipped. PHOTO: Fountain of Arethusa, Syracuse, Sicily, Italy. Photo by Luca NContinue reading “Syracuse at Dusk by Frances Daggar Roberts”

Tasting Lucca by Joan Leotta

Tasting Luccaby Joan Leotta Humming Puccini, wewalk the wide path on topof Lucca’s circular walluntil we reach the market steps.I descend to buy red beans, farro,Parmigiano, tomatoes, pancetta.In our apartment,I blend and magnifyflavors with a bit of thyme.As our soup simmers,the aroma transports us frommodern Lucca to its days as aconquered Etruscan outpost ofRome, soldiersContinue reading “Tasting Lucca by Joan Leotta”

Streets in Shanghai by Tomas Tranströmer

Streets in Shanghaiby Tomas TranströmerTranslated by Patty Crane 1 The white butterfly in the park is being read by many. I love that cabbage-moth as if it were a fluttering corner of truth itself! At dawn the running crowds set our quiet planet in motion. Then the park fills with people. To each one, eightContinue reading “Streets in Shanghai by Tomas Tranströmer”