Sunday, August 30, 2015

Morning Walks #5

by A.M.
From the collection entitled Ken' Islan'

morning streets littered
with tiny pulverized frogs,
August flies swarming

Sunday, August 23, 2015

Stealthcat 2.0

Stealthcat 2.0 by Poor Boy Motosports,
Kent Island, Maryland

Wednesday, August 19, 2015


by Kat Comer

I bathe
in a pool of silence.
Diving deep, I enter its stream.
Desire carries me home
to the ocean.
I melt and dissolve
into pure sensation.
I am 
poet of everything,
artist of the deep.

Friday, August 14, 2015


Martyr by Ashleigh Hartsock, 2015, acrylic on canvas Strange Fruit Hanging

Monday, August 10, 2015

Examination at the Womb-Door

by Ted Hughes
From his collection entitled Crow

Who owns these scrawny little feet?        Death.
Who owns this bristly scorched-looking face?        Death.
Who owns these still-working lungs?        Death.
Who owns this utility coat of muscles?        Death.
Who owns these unspeakable guts?        Death.
Who owns these questionable brains?        Death.
All this messy blood?        Death.
These minimum-efficiency eyes?        Death.
This wicked little tongue?        Death.
This occasional wakefulness?        Death.

Given, stolen, or held pending trial?

Who owns the whole rainy, stony earth?        Death.
Who owns all of space?        Death.

Who is stronger than hope?        Death.
Who is stronger than will?        Death.
Stronger than love?        Death.
Stronger than life?        Death.

But who is stronger than death?      
                                                         Me, evidently.
Pass, Crow.

Tuesday, August 4, 2015

Sunday, August 2, 2015

The New York Botanical Garden

by Karen Rigby
From her collection entitled Chinoiserie

The audio tour explains harvesting
palm hearts. Outside, hoarfrost burns the lawn.
I'm inside the snow-globed conservatory peering into
a replica hut: hammock slung
from a beam, mortar and pestle
stationed on the floor. Placards label
everything like a crime. Tell me
something new about the manicole acreage.
A human organ salvaged from the wreck,
my own heart tinned.