books

Carol Anne Johnson Each morning, the weight is waiting,quiet as stone beneath the chest.I lace my shoes and breathe through the fog,a soldier rehearsing peace. The world asks for smiles like currency,but mine are stitched from fragile threads.Behind them, a storm hums low and constant,lightning without thunder. Still, I move.Step by step,cup of tea in… Continue reading

Merril D. Smith I want to taste every season onmy tongue— spring lilacs, summer roses,autumn’s dried brown leavesas they crunch underfoot,winter snow,the scent of itabout to fall— I want to see stars in my eyesand notice the spaces in between like the pause when it seems the sky is holding a breath just before the… Continue reading

Nicole Sara I forgive winters their harsh silences,their inexistent arrivalstimidly scatteredon the winding pathwayswithin me…I step along your mild quietnessin every sightreading carefully on your shadowsamong time drops always the same… You always open the door,and then a windowfor my flightnot begun yet…And I rewrite the same versefrom the abyssalways lost and foundin your eyeswhen… Continue reading

Rachel Armes-McLaughlin I wore my favorite shoes,rubber-soled, out in the rainto keep me grounded on the Earth. Black canvas tops,white laces –covering my warm feet,feet walking downthe asphalt hillat twilight. Cold, cold rain –late winter,early spring. The heavy waste bagkeeps me weighted,fingers numbingfrom the looped strings,arm tired, and my shoesgrounding me in the rain. Suddenly:wet… Continue reading

Nick Allison When I awoke today,I looked to the eastand there was the sun,punctual as ever. I opened the back door,pleased to hear the birdssinging their songs of morninginto the cool, quiet air. Breathing in, I feel my lungsexpand, contract. Steady,the beat of my heart,a small promise of existence. The world goes on as it… Continue reading

Brent Boeckman Standing in the rubble of a life split wide open.Not a door ajar, but the whole damn house blown in.The discovery of a person who poured every dropof cement into the crack—watching the foundation still just… snap. The raw mix: Exhaustion. Confusion.The voice thick with the simple, brutal intrusion of failure,even when doing… Continue reading

Melissa Lemay i hold the plungerbetween my teethand pullitback. drawingthe liquid into thebarrel. it is the colorof a camel. i find the pool-bluemarker in thecrook of my elbow. piercing my skin, adark-dance oblivionfollows after red. i wake up, unsureof when; wherebegins to come intofocus. i am late to workagain. Melissa Lemay lives in Lancaster County,… Continue reading

Erica Johnson I decided to partakepopping over to a protestand demonstrating democracyI was not prepared fora capital crisis on the capitolwhere the lines are drawnnot unlike the lines we drewin permanent marker on posterwhich warbles with movementand the din of voicesebbing, flowing, weavingaround and into the streetsarms linked or outstretchedand stomping feet standingor sitting stampingand… Continue reading

Zsófia Hajnal Bird in a cageYou want to be freeImagine the world more beautifulThan it couldEver be And soThe idea of wonderIs bornAnd sung in an ageOf captivity Zsófia Hajnal is a Budapest-based Hungarian economist and poet. In 2024, while her doctoral dissertation Reinterpreting the Moral Economy, written at the Corvinus University of Budapest, approached… Continue reading

Kate Bremer Tucker greets us today—messenger from other worlds;He travels back and forth so easily in the quiet, betweenthe trees, under the shrill of Bodi’s squeaky toy.Something is happening! Donkey squeals! Pony runs! Sylvia runs! The world is speedingup again. Time to slow the pen. Neutron star,heavier than Jasper, Marshmallow and all our drums. Marshmallowwants… Continue reading