Tricks of Lights/Poetry Book Review

REVIEW   Tricks of Light: New and Selected Poems by Thad Rutkowski, (New York: Great Weather for Media, 2020) Publication date: April 6, 2020 $18.00 ISBN: 978-0-9981440-7-8 Paperback, 100 pages   By Jim Feast Readers know from poems in Thad Rutkowski’s delightful...

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Alan Britt

IT’S NOT OVER TILL WE SAY IT’S OVER   That’s why they’re called safety matches; duck your head before striking. That’s when the tarnished Indian elephant coin bank with iron-stripped flathead screw divorced both ribcages spilling wheat pennies, buffaloes, Mercury...

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Laura Boss/Poetry

THIS THANKSGIVING   This Thanksgiving my husband and I went to Atlanta       to spend Thursday through Sunday       with his very caring daughter Jim and I had gotten up at 3:20 a.m. and were       at the airport by 5 My new husband ( not so different       from...

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In The Trees/Fiction

In The Trees/Fiction

Photo by Matthew T Rader on Unsplash *** In the Trees   by Britnee Meiser Contributor t was the summer of the cicadas. Usually I liked to walk around barefoot, to lie in the grass beneath the great oaks...

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Our Back Yard: Mick McMahon/Poetry

 Death of a Dandelion   The day I died was not just one day. It was a year, maybe two, maybe three – It was slow. It was painful And it went unnoticed. The sun still rose. The day I died, I did not go coughing. There was no sobbing, no wheezing, I did not die...

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Our Back Yard: Keery Hastings/Poetry

Body Buried Body burned into a wooden box Or maybe gently paced into a casket; Dug just a bit too high underground. Dressed in a last pair of clothes; Hands to chest – A lonely name ground into pink marbled stone; Settled under the next available lot – The leaves from...

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Our Back Yard: Mike Foldes/Poetry

          Dreaming in Hungarian Miskolc, Eger, Budapest, letcho, goulash, paprikash, nem, egan, dobos torte, smooth roads, fenceless fields ideally suited for horse-drawn wagons to leave wakes of  broken grasses, transitory roadways for...

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Marc Darnell/Poetry

Gadget Man is a juicy machine-- a talking sack of fluids, no soul, I mean no aura, no spirit seen. If you ask druids if man is a juicy machine they'll say he's a stream in sync with all the gods, but no soul.  I mean well, though I seem cold, inhumanly rude to say man...

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