Forest Spirit

Many selves,
a raging fire, a sparkling chasm.
viper slithers to its apogee – the sun –
almost succeeds, almost destroys –
I am justified in brevity, breathing
as I, come face to face,
and so it is – angry souls in each other’s bodies –
while August burns treacherously
in the dry grasses.

Boy leaves tracks. Life trudges.
Brooding, endorsing the searing sun,
Can’t close the seed captured here,
die brother…live sister….
no distress or bitterness or revenge –
merely randomness that
divides itself unmercifully

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Cornfield Basketball

Mark Jackley‘s most recent book of poems is On the Edge of a Very Small Town. His work has appeared in Sugar House Review, Fifth Wednesday, Talking River, Timberline Review, and other journals. He lives in Purcellville, VA. Cornfield Basketball The muddy court is empty, the net hangs by a thread, flapping like the cornstalks […]

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The Passing Down

Erric Emerson is a poet residing in the westerlands of Philadelphia. He is a founding member of Duende literary journal. His work has appeared in Beautiful Losers, Crabfat, Five:2:one, Neon, Gingerbread House, The Black Napkin, Mead, and By&By, among other places. The Passing Down a 1980-something coed rehab in upstate New York // an all-nighter tête-à-tête […]

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OK. I Wanted a Girl

When I was pregnant with my second, I had an eighteen month old son. I loved him with every ounce of my being, of course, and I loved that he was a boy. No real reason, except I didn’t know much about boys before him, and there was something about the discovery that was fascinating and fulfilling. But in […]

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