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COFFEEHOUSE POEM #62
by Erren Geraud Kelly She glides into the coffeehouse Gliding, not walking Her movement itself is a Dance She's wearing a tartan skirt And she's glowing like a Live wire Wearing eighth notes on her Feet Even when she standing still She's in motion The electricity always moving Within her, all the time |
SILVER LAKE by Allyson Seconds |
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SOLO
by B.Z. Niditch The bow's strange story as it turns on Mozart for inspiration on the green hills the wind glimmers as we walk the Esplanade under the Charles St. bridge by lovers bones like the other night's swaggering inchworms on stretched out hours by once iced sheets blanketing our flakes of memory under a hundred year evergreen where my childhood music stands by me. |
VETCH REACH by Allyson Seconds |
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SING
by Robert Lee Haycock You, third quarter Moon, Tangled in my neighbor's tree, Let me sing you free. |
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MUSIC OF FLYING INSECTS
by Leslie Gerber Bees and the butterflies pecking out Morse Code messages on the insides of my eyelids. Wish I knew what language they speak so I could have my computer translate them for me. All I hear is their music. Faint notes like Chopin a mile away, like Satie from the bottom of an empty well once filled with clear water and gold. Strange to hear bees and butterflies flocking together like neighbors at a barn raising. |
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