Tested by Kay Robertson

Tested
by Kay Robertson

Critically ill, hurting,
mind fogged by drugs,
he endures possible cures,
deadly side effects;
survival remains
a fickle bitch.

A year later, despite the odds,
scarred by many surgeries
he’s very much alive.

Home at last, he wants
to get his driver’s license back,
fly the Cessna again,
apply for grad school.

He’s always loved to write;
poetry, prose will come
from mind, spirit tested by fire,
wisdom paid for in blood.

Kay Robertson lives near Puget Sound. Much of her poetry is inspired by the unique beauty of Washington State. She belongs to Writer’s University Word Weavers on-line poetry group. Her work appears in Pirene’s Fountain Japan Anthology, Soundings Review, Loch Raven Review, Sugar Mule.

NEVER GIVING UP by Joan Colby

NEVER GIVING UP
by Joan Colby

The railroad museum is conducted
By retired conductors and signalmen,
Engineers and ticket takers, gandy dancers.
White haired, heavy set in striped overalls.

The steam tractor show is handled
By elderly farmers and mechanics,
Boilermen and harvesters.
White haired, scrawny in short sleeves and work pants.

Some can’t give up
Who they were, what they were up to.
No Florida trailer parks for them.
No golf, no casinos, no walking tours.

In winter, they grease the monoliths
Or assemble miniature farmsteads
Complete with wooden cows and pigs
And small green John Deere’s that work.

Seven books published including The Lonely Hearts Killers, The Atrocity Book, etc. Over 980 poems in publications including Poetry, Atlanta Review, Spoon River Poetry Review, The New York Quarterly, South Dakota Review, Epoch, etc. Two Illinois Arts Council Literary Awards (one in 2008) and an IAC Literary Fellowship. Honorable mention in the 2008 James Hearst Poetry Contest—North American Review and the 2009 Editor’s Choice Contest–Margie, and finalist in the 2007 GSU (now New South) Poetry Contest, 2009 Nimrod International Pablo Neruda Prize, 2010 James Hearst Poetry Contest and Ernest J. Poetry Prize Joan Colby lives on a small horse farm in Northern Illinois with her husband and assorted animals.

Voices and Visions – William Carlos Williams

An old PBS broadcast about William Carlos Williams, including biography, recordings, and just a bunch of stuff.

For Jill Clayburgh, In Memoriam By Diane Elayne Dees

For Jill Clayburgh, In Memoriam
By Diane Elayne Dees

The image we will always remember:
You, swirling and spinning
throught the streets of New York,
becoming the blue and yellow and orange.
You looked excited, not afraid, not caring
that strangers gawked at you. You learned
to move with the wind, to stay grounded
while fate turned you round and round.
At one with the blue and yellow and orange,
at one with the streak of fiery red,
standing straight and filled with awe,
you let yourself be carried by art, by wind.

Diane Elayne Dees’s poetry has been published in many journals and anthologies. Diane lives in Louisiana. She publishes Women Who Serve, a blog about women’s professional tennis.

Spin by Kay Robertson

Spin
by Kay Robertson

Incoming tides crash
on battered shore,
determined waves
splinter sunlight,
shadows tremble.

What was visible
moments ago
becomes obscured
by murky cross-currents.

In politics, veracity
resides in the depths,
at the mercy of slippery facts.

Kay Robertson lives near Puget Sound. Much of her poetry is inspired by the unique beauty of Washington State. She belongs to Writer’s University Word Weavers on-line poetry group. Her work appears in Pirene’s Fountain Japan Anthology, Soundings Review, Loch Raven Review, Sugar Mule.

The Grief of Atalanta By Diane Elayne Dees

The Grief of Atalanta
(For Kris N.)
By Diane Elayne Dees

Daughter of hunters,
Atalanta knows survival.
Daughter of bears,
Atalanta knows hibernation.
Daughter of man and woman,
Atalanta knows expectations.
Sister of many,
Atlanta knows abandonment.

Born to run, raised to fight,
Atalanta longs for winter,
a time to flee the race, the hunt,
even the golden apples.
She must make her own winter,
find her own cave, even in
the middle of the race.

The warrior always feels alone,
for those for whom she fights
stay far behind, not aware
that there is a war, much less
that they are losing it.

Diane Elayne Dees’s poetry has been published in many journals and anthologies. Diane lives in Louisiana. She publishes Women Who Serve, a blog about women’s professional tennis.

Constant Reflection by Isabalino Anastasio Guzman

Constant Reflection
After reading Daniel Simko’s “Departures”
by Isabalino Anastasio Guzman

I enter you as an angel enters
a scythe. I find nothing.

The room has been replaced with
a desert of glass, some mirror
fragments, and a slash
of birds through leaves of lava
(in the distance).

A wheel of eyes revolve around
whatever is left of me;
a floating rag from an old shirt,
the still-born eye (melting),
the fat leaking from my chest.

I cannot pretend much, anymore.
To remain honest, I search
the distance for a blue sun.

Isabalino Anastasio Guzman is an aspiring full-time poet from Brooklyn, New York. The main goal in his writing is an attempt at reflecting society and the personal self, through Surrealism. He is currently working on his first book, a reflection on his struggle with his Puerto Rican heritage. Isabalino is currently published in over a dozen publications; including Big City Lit, The Same Magazine, Symmetry Pebbles, Underground Voices, Toe Good Poetry, and Shot Glass Journal.

THE BOY WITH A FEATHER by Byron Beynon

THE BOY WITH A FEATHER
by Byron Beynon

The boy has found a feather
to play with,
a new toy for imagination’s
threshold,
he is introduced to science,
gravity captured
before the fall
sticks to memory,
bold and clear
in slow motion
it meets the invisible ground
without sound,
only the child’s sweet breath
recalls that never again
will there be such innocence.

Byron Beynon lives in Swansea, Wales. His work has appeared in many
publications including London Magazine, Poetry Wales, The Summerset
Review, Agenda (UK); Quadrant (Australia) and Cyphers (Dublin). His
latest collection is Human Shores published by Lapwing Publications
(Belfast, 2012).

Passing on Grace by George Bishop

Passing on Grace
by George Bishop

The word and the act at dinner became unclear—
the goodwill of allowing everyone equal portions

seemed more meaty, the secret recipe of something-
battered fish closer to the prayer we all prayed

differently. If you kept yours open you could watch
each eye making corrections beneath lightly veined

lids, weighing something, spices maybe. Once, over
dessert, someone even asked me if I believed God

could change His mind—ghost-quick I began
sniffing through my bible backyards where the dog

inside has always buried such bones. Not sure,
I told him without telling him as he told me

he wasn’t sure what he meant, passed on grace,
said some things could’ve been better. I wanted

to know what they were but knew translations
are all that reach us, hearsay our hidden selves

speak. A god-nod filled my heart like a well
deserved belch, heaven moving away in perfect

circles of empty plates. Breakfast soon, eggs up
making more perfect circles, and there’s obedience

at a cave wall painting fire to stone, blowing it
for words. Praise the birds in the morning, all

the sounds they have for light, all the light
in their sounds. Amen.

George Bishop’s latest work appears in New Plains Review & Lunch Ticket. New work will be included in Naugatuck River Review and The Penwood Review. Bishop is the author of four chapbooks, most recently “Old Machinery” from Aldrich Publishing. His full length collection, “Expecting Delays” will be released by FutureCycle Press in 2013. He attended Rutgers University and now lives and writes in Kissimmee, Florida.

In opposition to you leaving by Kristina England

In opposition to you leaving
by Kristina England

I found the duffle bag of clothes you stuffed
when you woke to our day on the wrong side.

It happens, but go ahead, shove off. Good luck
finding remedies in the forward motion of legs.

Look in the hallway mirror before you head out.
Witness the weight of leaving – your eyes

heavy with the lapping of water-logged buckets.
There’s bound to be a few leaks. It’s okay.

Soon the words will pool over and stream
down your cheeks in murmuring rivers

you’ll hear the splashing of language
saying, “Go back. Go back. Go back.”

Try to stop the flowing water.
Try to swim uphill through the dirge.

Kristina England resides in Worcester, Massachusetts. She is an active member of the poetry community serving on the Board of Directors for the Worcester County Poetry Association and an assistant editor for Ballard Street Poetry Journal. She also runs a local poetry workshop. Her poetry is published or forthcoming in Gargoyle, Haggard and Halloo, Nib Review, and other journals. For more on her poetry, visit kristinaengland.blogspot.com.