The thought of it excited her. She discussed it with her tender peers. They were open with anticipation For confirmation of their fears, For reprieve from waiting, For a taste of the Garden, Which...
after the quiz, looking in a mirror, fussing with her hair waiting at the door for his walk, the dog awaits his leash our old dog runs through fields in his dreams first deep snow-- one can hear the...
fall fresh sun beams on ceramic features of carved irony warm the deadened impulse to breathe green grass grows on the other side of the world we desensitize the cells until growth is abstract...
Here in GC land, we thought this poem was especially pertinent considering the recent brouhaha over Barack Obama's minister. Please remember to enjoy the genius of Sim Stafford responsibly....
Lalla M’Zouda took pride in the thicket of her burning bush. “Gardens are the scene of assignation,” she told Moulay Aly. “First, your tongue is to brush, barely brush, the dew from the outer...
Dear Readers, These two poems are presented here together, because they are meant to compliment one another. Mustapha Marrouchi is as glorious, and grave, as ever. It is a privilege to continue...
in the courtyard-- box turtle and hummingbird last year's leaves marking my place in this year's book can we learn to look at what's there without needing more? in the bare bush by the bare tree by...
The big city in nocturne light, still not all cold this winter. Our eyes pick up the melting night, Streaming out time with our river. For all those things that you forgot are rushing back to the...
We, the Scatterbrains, unfocused, unrestrained, Random in our pattern, dispersed throughout that Critical Mass—that info-terrain, That moves our thought like a manic nymph train— Our station is...
This one is for everyone who will NOT be smugly 'starting out 2008 debt-free' (I hate people who can actually say that - don't you? Oh, it's a jealousy thing? Really? Fancy that.) Considering the...