Archive for ‘October, 2015’

Featured: Pumpkin Patch

What possessed us to grow a pumpkin patch
I cannot remember.
We didn’t own a watering can
But you were sure
And I was happy to go along.
In our youthfulness we dreamed
Of burnt umber orbs
Feeding a dying friendship
Which splintered like rotten wood
When summer passed.
After I moved out
You wrote me only once
Telling me the new homeowners destroyed
Our pumpkin patch. I did not mind.
We had reached seasons end.


Carolyn's Photo

Carolyn D. Elias is a poet has been published in over 25 literary magazines and websites. When she isn’t writing, she is working …

Read article

Featured: Sugar Maple

Listen to the poem here:


I stood splayed, mute, leafless, trying to root
in a fallow sky. Underneath, he tapped
me dry. At first I welcomed the slow plunge
and twist, my amber juices flowing toward
the wound like spring. When I gave out he bored
again. He used no bucket, just his tongue
lapping, then thrust up the spouts, hard, as sap
drew back into its freeze. My residue
smeared across his mouth and chin, the sweet grains
in sticky clots off which, stubborn, he still
tried to feed. And if I lived, he would kill
me with

Read article

Featured: Awakening


To fall asleep in the theater
during a play
about your life
in which the main character 
dies at the end.





IMG_4318Peycho Kanev is the author of 4 poetry collections and two chapbooks, published in USA and Bulgaria. His poems have appeared in many literary magazines, such as: Poetry Quarterly, Evergreen Review, Front Porch Review, Hawaii Review, Sheepshead Review, Off the Coast, The Adirondack Review, Sierra Nevada Review, The Cleveland Review and many others.…

Read article

Featured: The Waft Away World

The Waft Away World

Robert Vivian

And how it’s floating away even now, ever lofting, ever praiseworthy and I waft with it in these words, spirit drifting, spirit soaring and can we waft, you and I, can we seek the waft away world together arm in arm or dust motes of these human longings apart and drifting, floating toward the ceiling or suspended mid-sigh near the caverns of our open mouths and here is a feather weight world and nothing to hold us down and gravity is defeated in notes of song or a poem chanted from the depths of …

Read article