sprovence
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H. King Always in my Pockets
Hilary King Always In My Pockets Envy slept in this morning, and I let her. I walk through our apartment, drinking peppermint tea, the bright scent filling the high ceilings of our small rooms. Later, over wine and take-out, I’ll tellEnvy everything. Wait– Maybe I’ll cook. Crepes, because when I’m not jealous, I’m French. Or…
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N. Lee Derivation
Nissa Lee Derivation Less than one percent of Earth’swater is potable. Drinkable.The fact leaves me thirsty,and searching the internetfor water filtration systems.Potable comes from Old Frenchcomes from the Latin potare.Related to potion and poison.Ninety-nine percent of Earth’s wateris poison to me. Salty or swimmingwith bacteria. My kid has been coughing all winter.I’ve brewed teas and…
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S. Clark Outdoor Farmers Market
Sarah CR Clark At the Year’s First Outdoor Farmers Market Spring is exploding with asparagusIn the North, winter’s menu has finally expiredNow old men dive into buckets of red rhubarbSun-starved and ravenous for fresh pea pods We trade winter’s northern menu forBaskets of living mizuna, arugula, spinachOverflowing pea pods flirt with thawing sensesI am seduced…
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M. Kirby, Echo
Merie Kirby Echo of Tectonic Plates I sink into the earth where I’m set down, mineral roots seeking community, tentative among all the deep prairie taproots, slow to mingle and entangle. Tectonic plates of home shift thousands of miles away, vibrations passed root to root through granites, sediment, limestone, sandstone, through ice plant and sagebrush,…
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J. Goodfellow, On Fearful Symmetry
Jessica Goodfellow On Fearful Symmetry In art, odd numbers are favored. Asymmetry hangs on its axis like a pole dancer, like a tattered banner in capricious wind. And why is wind asymmetric while rain is symmetric?Human faces thought as beautiful tend toward symmetry. The bell curve ought to be the belle curve or the belle…
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L. Foley, Dodes’ka-den
Laura Foley Dodes’ka-den, Dodes’ka-den Watching Kurosawa’s Dodes’ka-den at the theater, in the early days dating my film professor, his tweed beret cocked, his arm in the dark pressing into mine, mine pressing back. Strolling through Washington Square Park after rain, vivid park lights shine in the black night like constellations. Like train tracks clacking,I feel…
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M. Maddox, Poetry Reading with Drumming
Marjorie Maddox Poetry Reading with Drumming -Bethany Retreat Center Each is a beat on repeat, the organs of voice and vision syncopated. Tapped rawhidealternates New Age and Ancient: pulse of the body pa-pumming thud of the syllables tha-thumpingin chest and wrist, ear and larynx, cardio and poem circling the room,rocking the earth, in the deepgreen-blue…
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L. Grace Weldon, Unseen Patterns
Laura Grace Weldon Unseen Patterns I should know more about graceful poetic forms— ghazals, sestinas, mathnawis, villanelles, sonnets, tankas, quatrains. I’d rather swim close to secrets held in coral reefs where a five-inch fish creates meaning within patterns. Before mating, the male Japanese pufferfish swims in circles, tiny fins scraping sandinto symmetrical ridges.He enhances the…
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R. Emerson, Bigfoot
Renee Emerson Self Portrait as Bigfoot They fill my print with cement, save scraps of my hair in bags. They imagine we are close, even related. I see no resemblance—when have they wokenwith dew in their furlike live stars?When have they helda wolf cub close to their heart to feel the growl, and return it?I…
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R. Emerson, Loch
Renee Emerson Self Portrait as The Loch Ness Monster I do not need anyone to believe in me. I am the shadow beneath still water, feeding in the depths on rumor.Still, they do believe—with t-shirts,mugs, photographs taken on cloudy day.They need to hold their beliefs in two hands.I am not afraid of them but do…