| Stephanie Kaplan Cohen Sarah Sarai Paula Bernett Judy Bebelaar Julia Klatt Singer Jason Stocks Carl Auerbach Helen Wickes Jamie Houghton Bhuwan Thapaliya Alan Meyrowitz Deborah George Desmond Kon Zhicheng-Mingdé Jennifer Borges Foster Barry Spacks Heidi Hart Julian Sherman henry 7. reneau jr. Joseph Farley Meg Schoerke Nick Flynn Susanna Rich Paul Hamill Elisabeth Murawski Steve DeFrance A.M. Svilar Natalie Eilbert Phoebe Wilcox Sarah Wetzel David Livingstone Fore Lisa Mulleneaux Edwin Rivera Neil Citrin Karen Hildebrand Jamie Cavanagh Mel Kenne Jen Karetnick Asya Graf John Sibley Williams Peter Grieco Matthew Jason Mahaney Fani Papageorgiou Matteo Spinetti Rich Murphy Tom Gribble Zara Raab Weam Namou Tetman Callis Robert Demaree Mark Lamoureux Justin Dodd Richard L. Provencher Gigi Marino Jessica Harris Judith Salerno Steve Halasz David Richardson Sally Hand Candy Shue Robert Wexelblatt Judy Shepps Battle |
Poetry
FOLLY
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REPORT
by Barry Spacks
The seas surge, the lions roar,
the sun and the subways pound and the miracles
miracle. Mainly the people sigh.
WAITING
by Barry Spacks
A little boy in a photograph
leans hunched against a white stone wall.
I was once this little boy...
weren’t you? Or his sister, small and waiting.
Waiting for what? For “it” to happen...
"it?" -- whatever's not this wretched wall!
SERENDIPITY
by Barry Spacks
A student queries the spelling
of master poet Rumi's name --
"Roomy?" Well, yes, in a way.
DEW OF THE VOID
by Barry Spacks
Brother Frank rents words to poets. What a notion,
it gives me an urge to traffic
in the silences between.
These words? Rented from Frank, must be returned.
But the little spaces? They're mine.
Please, help yourself, no fee,
use them to bless translucence, the way
a mystical interlude lets the light
pour through to shimmer thoughts.
Bless the poem whose shoes are shined,
whose telling words -- some even rhyme! --
wear suit, crisp shirt & tie.
A poem comes up from darks of sleep
blinking its eyes, saddlebags filled
with strangely set gems from Persia.
Bless the poems that glow for us,
arriving bearing the weight of space
with the dew of the void on their fingers.
by Barry Spacks
The seas surge, the lions roar,
the sun and the subways pound and the miracles
miracle. Mainly the people sigh.
WAITING
by Barry Spacks
A little boy in a photograph
leans hunched against a white stone wall.
I was once this little boy...
weren’t you? Or his sister, small and waiting.
Waiting for what? For “it” to happen...
"it?" -- whatever's not this wretched wall!
SERENDIPITY
by Barry Spacks
A student queries the spelling
of master poet Rumi's name --
"Roomy?" Well, yes, in a way.
DEW OF THE VOID
by Barry Spacks
Brother Frank rents words to poets. What a notion,
it gives me an urge to traffic
in the silences between.
These words? Rented from Frank, must be returned.
But the little spaces? They're mine.
Please, help yourself, no fee,
use them to bless translucence, the way
a mystical interlude lets the light
pour through to shimmer thoughts.
Bless the poem whose shoes are shined,
whose telling words -- some even rhyme! --
wear suit, crisp shirt & tie.
A poem comes up from darks of sleep
blinking its eyes, saddlebags filled
with strangely set gems from Persia.
Bless the poems that glow for us,
arriving bearing the weight of space
with the dew of the void on their fingers.