Why raise questions, throw lights, or see shadows?

Kamilė Krasauskaitė

Instead of a cup of tea, instead of a milk-

silk whelk of a cup, of a cup of nearly six

o'clock teatime, cup of a stumbling block,

cup of an afternoon unredeemed by talk,

cup of a cut brown loaf, of a slice, a lack

of butter, blueberry jam that's almost black,

instead of tannin seeping into the cracks

of a pot, the void of an hour seeps out, infects

the slit of a cut I haven't the wit to fix

mirdinara






Pierre Le-Tan

she lost her words and how did she get them back

when the corridor of a day was a lurching deck?

The dream-life logic encodes in nervous tics

she translated to a syntax which connects

intense and unfashionable politics

with morning coffee

Tony Huynh

Melinda Schwakhofer

What a gaze out the window interjects:

on the southeast corner, a black Lab balks,

tugged as the light clicks green toward a late-day walk...


 Maurizio Quarello




Graham Franciose


Isabelle Arsenault





***
title - Cioran
all lines from a poem - Crepuscule with Muriel
BY MARILYN HACKER