Petrichor, melancholy new poetry by Broede Carmody
Windborne Avenue, searing new poetry by Louis Klee
Invisible Cities, insightful new poetry by David McCooey
Ebon Cans by Stuart Barnes
Melon ball lashed with scarlet,
his body is a half-painted nail
We are bewildered.
What is it holy warriors
hear so clearly at their prayers?
Farewell, the smell of wet acrylic.
It’s as if the gums are still trying to move—or perhaps
they are moving, but very, very slowly.
White as wave crest, an osprey and its mate
prowl the thermals …
Not one single diner
tried to leap to their feet to abandon the trestle table.