by Richard Jackson

Well, we’d been many times up by the quarry where
people claimed to see skull faces lurking in the limestone.

by Dion O'Reilly

And I have what I have—
light-shot maple leaves,
lifted by wind, sun-bleached
tools lost where I left them,

by Bern Mulvey

Same yet infinite other
the sky becomes you,
underfoot ice, eggshell,

by Trevor Cunnington

in the outer reaches of the city
lightning torches the sky into blue
bunsen burner territory

i.
When frightened at night, my little girl would stand
at my bedside. Her sharp silence woke me.

by Kelly Sawin

And why not consider the moon? That even night’s
most somber hour can’t draw its smothering cloth
over the face of light.

by Kelly Sawin

And why not consider the moon? That even night’s
most somber hour can’t draw its smothering cloth
over the face of light.

by Evan Leslie

Since the 16th century, the eccentric Bolognese have spun
their church bells all the way around and up-

by Evan Leslie

Hallelujah! How odd – this raucous choir
of wincing sirens stung chimes ricocheted

by Mary B. Moore

The volunteer pin oak is straight
and narrow. I’m not, though
at one point, I tried.

by Ali Beheler

Remember how
they overtook us, how
we’d learn one and then find it everywhere?

by Temima Weissmann

It is not depression, I realized,
because I can hear the buttered knife
against the toast today and
my eyes noticed the robin

by Daril Bentley

The dust-storm land is dry.
The Creator withholds
the mercies of his tears.

by James B. Nicola

Almost done with this draft. The hour is nigh.
Have the latest revisions been enough
to please The Buyer of All Finished Work?

by Liza Moore

I sat in your room last night,
again, thinking of you,
your body,
lying on top of the water
floating to music -

by Chris Weigel

When you take care of someone with dementia, the material world can be so confusing. 

by K. D. Battle

First things first: forgive yourself. If you’re not quite sure what for—maybe everything? And then, when you’re ready, forgive yourself for your bad meditation practice, the days, weeks, or years it’s been since you last sat and listened to the pulse of the universe.