Rubbing Amber

The new monks like moths gather to the light scree falls into the folds of their feathered skin robes amid foul screens callous bawls window shades pulled down the game glows with electric flames warm and hand wrapped wireless controllers fingers jostle the joysticks.

An Impure Primer

A beastly catechism dog eared brown cat  drenched frozen green halo. I just kwikzilver looked. Mighty nice mice nook. Opening opinion pending please query queue quorum. Run straight toward universe vast wobbly. Exit your zero.

Song at a Border Crossing

If this be your love come away with us come away. If this be your love steal away with us steal away. If this be your love come free with us come free. And if this be your fear songs smiling ear to ear songs that give no take – unhinge the gate of your…

Feast of Epiphany

Epiphany In the straw burrow farm mice. Get a little closer and you’ll see Nits in baby Jesus’s hair, lice, And a house snake in the olive tree. There’s beer on the breath of the three Sage men sitting under the olive tree, Playing games of cribbage, Ushering in a new age. The pieces are…

Drizzle Rain

A trip of plovers paused wading in the wet sand of an ebb tide each one after another across the sloping beach stopped and pecked and ran on. Up on 101 a swarm of workers on a wet sidewalk in winter huddled at the bus stop waiting and each one hopped aboard and nipped and…

Epiphanic Cat

A kin of kindly epiphany, unblinding, not whiskey aflame in your raw throat, a mud dog’s bouche to your uncupped groin, but the silent soft brush of a cat rub against your leg to say hello and please pay attention to her.

This and That

This and That had a quick chat. You go this way and I’ll go that, balanced on the brim of a hat. Said That, I which wish to set up this neither forget nor forgive any trespass near or far. As far as that goes, replied This, I’ll look forward to that there reminder, and…

The Awful Truth

How awful to be foul all of the time. One should wise up once in awhile. But uneasy, those strange gods above us, all who stir to one thing: “Three little people don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world.” * * Rick to Ilsaat the endof Casablanca.

A Cutting Edge Paradox

Mr. Groen maintained a modest but pleasant yard.Saturdays in season he cut the grass with a pushmower, pruned roses, fertilized, spread compost.Martha Groen watered the beds full of crimsongeraniums, purple peonies, tulips, daisies, and such that fancied her seasonal gardening moods. But back to back dry nasty winters followed by suns so hot the weatherman…

Hugs Penyeach: “I Saw a Man Hugging a Fridge: Twelve Poems by Youssef Rakha in Robin Moger’s Translation”

Youssef Rakha, Egyptian writer and editor of the international online publication The Sultan’s Seal (aka Cosmopolitan Hotel Cairo), recently posted to his site twelve of his own original poems, translated from the Arabic by Robin Moger. That posting draws significance for several reasons: both writer and translator are professionals published elsewhere in traditional forms – literary,…