Garland Ray Wallace Poetry.................................................................................................pages

Thighs on this chair plush like wood. As do all trees, I sit and bow around my center with solemnity, the hidden solidity of breath-full bodies.

Stubborn puddles of sight burst before, no, within where mind meets mine— nothing that I am.

Beginning again, standing and taken up by space, I shudder with wind-blown grass while the ground underfoot recognizes her departed and beloved blade.

Recognition

Trent Jaurez

Drained is an Understatement

Trent Jaurez

Drained is an understatement Giving every ounce of essence Carving out every inch of fight Squeezing every strand of life Pumping away every heartbeat Leaving a corn husk of a person Sunken eyes that have solidified to grey Mindless obedience to a ruthless schedule Life ceases to have any appeal

Essence smothered to an unrecognizable shade of begging Shame’s knocks are silenced with a numbing infection Imbedded with darkened echo rippling off of generosity Leading to an incurable, raging loneliness With a pressure time imposes on the lacking help Numb is stitching to mask the desireless The never desirable Having loneliness tack up a hefty number of wins Out willed by devious feelings Out numbered by truth Out desired by giving Life ceases to have any appeal

The grieved stricken nails in desperate haste claw at an emptiness That seeps into every pore Exhaustion settles for a lockout of joy Days blur with a hazy repetition Entrapment on the hands passing numbers Settling in unchangeable outcome Settling in heartbreak Setting in incurable self loathing Life ceases to have any appeal

Pages Left

Molly Jessup

I can’t put a book down before its end It’s someone’s child, right? Someone’s darling aching frustration work distraction, back of the eyes far-away look all-night worrier, caffeine addiction Don’t give up when the going gets rough Someone loved this so don’t end it yet, not yet Listen to what they have to say

I’m the hand that never stops feeding and it was okay that you didn’t try when we started because we were a first edition and the prologue’s never as good as the first chapter so forgive the prose and wait for the narrative to kick in

Spinning dials on clocks slow like molasses, like a beetle on skin like the heat in July like the minutes I’m counting waiting waiting breaking with the pages turned into years of where were you and please forgive me and your mother’s shaking voice like tender branches in winter and the ice on your lips

So we change again flip the mattress, rinse without scrubbing, dress in a nicer jacket settle with time

And I wear you like a blanket so I can’t see the door you slip through probably nervous probably excited the way we did when we were kids but now it’s just you and I can’t put the book down

And after it’s done and the days crack like eggs spilling yellow on this fine print I’m still reading and re-reading looking for the lost passage to justify the purchase

You were a boy who never grew into a man and I was the hand that never stopped feeding because I can’t put the book down

Dad’s Poem

Lynn Peters

He loves music, any and all kinds, His favorite, barbershop quartets, That’s four singing at one time.

I was told once you must love children, animals and flowers Or something was wrong! He does that and more His joy of life and love of family is very strong.

He is Ward, Dad and Poppa To those who love him the most. He is Friend to many Always giving, too gracious to boast.

I sometimes wonder, why me To be so lucky To have a dad As wonderful as he.

He soon will have to leave us Many will weep, he would tell us not to cry. For he will always be with us In our hearts and minds, wipe the tear from your eye.

As time passes and the memories dull the pain Look to the stars in the sky, he is the one The one shining brightest And smile again and again and again.

One moisturizer for face Another each for lips and eyes A third one for neck and chest A fourth for belly and thighs

A thicker one for legs To help prevent in-growns Only if they’re smooth and shaved Will they ever be shown

A separate one for nails Cuticles to be precise And then one more Just for smelling nice

Yet another I only use at night Each one deployed in this relentless Anti-aging fight

Moisturize

Andrea de Freitas