Poetry

William Wolak/Poetry & Collage

  Unpredictable Pleasures You’re a shipwreck rusting into sand, but keep the wind’s sighing inside your tattered sails even when the world seems cold as a coffin’s white silk lining. Like the breathlessness of sparks, the unpredictable pleasures of love always...

Dante Distefano/Poetry

A gun rack tickles your ribcage when you
make love in the extended cab’s back seat.
You shoot the breeze with angels and sing hymns
that harmonize buckshot and wildflower.

Dio-genes Abreau/Poetry

you follow the vines,
the leafless branches that one day would die
knowing the joy gravitating between your arms
as body and soul come together in the same dance;

George Nelson Preston/How I Met Pablo Neruda

“Venceremos” was a cry that I constantly heard. Cuba was a beehive of armed citizens, milicianos and regulars. I knew of the invasion talk back home and I wondered how in the world a country armed in this fashion could be subdued. Little did I know that the debacle of the disastrously failed CIA sponsored beach-head at Bahia de Cochinos and La Cienega de Zapata would be a total route with Fidel himself commanding from the turret of a former Cuban Army battle tank.

John L. Stanizzi/Poetry

WALMART The knuckled trailer park rests in topsy repose on a plinth of ledge beside paltry little Windham Airport whose main function is flying people up so they can skydive down, and where every now and then at dusk a Cessna’s vesper whispers across the wide sky...

Alan Britt/Poetry

PLANTING A SEED   (For many people)     In the back room with Van Morrison. In the back room. In the back of the back room with Duckett & Beaz, back somewhere below purple azaleas, on our backs & on the back of a B&O retiree's gold-plated swan song. In the...

Peter Thabit Jones/Poetry

HERON: MONTEREY WHARF, CALIFORNIA Heron, hunchbacked, Drab chapel-grey, Bedraggled loner, Still as a statue On guard, staring Away and stood In a calmness Perfected since birth. What is a moment In unbothered composure? The ridiculous legs, The ungainly posture, The...

Catharine Lucas/Poetry

AFTERMATH Big Sur, California, May 2009 Phosphorescent green flickers against wet dark,             fire in another tongue Memorials of trees, stripped bare, black as mummies, stand witness Leaf-laden alders, parchment ghosts, testify in blanched whispers Our dead...

Alita Pirkopf/Poetry

  TEAHOUSE IN THE JAPANESE GARDEN The young man and the ancient Japanese flute make sounds like breath and wind, like rain and river, make sounds that soar—like birds— sounds that sing— toward evening’s silence, sounds we are told, of water dripping— from the...

Carl Auerbach/Poetry

  EXILE The word bird does not itself take flight from ..........off .................the ........................page. nor do the letters robin insert their beak deep into the field of white between the text to impale a small wet worm. We are torn from being by...

Catherine Lucas/Poetry

AFTERMATH Big Sur, California, May 2009   Phosphorescent green flickers against wet dark, .............fire in another tongue Memorials of trees, stripped bare, black as ............mummies, stand witness Leaf-laden alders, parchment ghosts, testify...

Nothing Important Happened Today/Book Review

  Nothing Important Happened Today Publisher: Broadstone Books 418 Ann Street Frankfort, KY 40601-1929 Available on Amazon ISBN:  978-1-937968-23-6 Publication Date:  March 9, 2016 Paperback, 148 pages $18.95   “Nothing Important Happened Today”  by Arthur...

Marina Soler/Poetry

Last Deceptions   Regardless of how fond and fondling stars inculcate the dark there is yet to press the wax seal against each enveloped space— gaps  infinite and intimate a woman standing by a window, her back to the audience of antiques:   everything...

Michael Meyerhofer/Poetry

THE MAN WHO INVENTED FIRE A hundred million nights before the first electric chair, some bored Neanderthal with the luck of a TV detective knocked two rocks together and made them spark. Glacial wind pawed the hide hung over the cave-maw. Maybe an infant cried in the...

Gladys Carr/Poetry

Firefly I dabble in wings in variations of flux Heraclitus is my friend everything in the world is my living room I am not pretty but let me show you my light here I land on your fingertip no no do not crush me I fear the dark as you do there are others I could have...

Sara LaPell/Poetry

An Elegy for Mother, or, an Attempted Remembrance of the Great Storm   We say she lives on, untrue, in recollection like the dragon having hungered for more than kinsfolk — those long gone, flea-bitten, and burrow-rid by toxic smoke too hazy sick for honest...

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The name Ragazine was coined in the mid-’70s in Columbus, Ohio, as the title of an alternative newspaper/magazine put together by a group of friends. It was revived in 2004 as ragazine.cc, the on-line magazine of arts, information and entertainment, a collaboration of artists, writers, poets, photographers, travelers and interested others. And that’s what it still is.