43 Years

I was 43 before I saw swans in flight I was born      raised I loved was loved      am loved I carried life in my swollen belly           in my grateful arms I saw my parents face time with grace      and without grace I have painted seashells stood my ground danced terribly fought and won           and lost…

Wonderfold Winner

a response to May’s #Wonderfold Prompt Our winner this month is “Love” written by Jean Holland! Thank you to all who participated and please remember to keep submitting because you never know who our next winner will be! Love ‘ neath nail beds of gardeners the crescent moon embraces the meaning of life ©2018 Jean Holland…

becoming more

what a good thing to be young and to call the creek behind your home ‘brother’ and to be fed by the same mouth and to spend the most fragile summer nights wondering how one becomes mighty and when — if ever — we learn how to swim in the bigness we will eventually become…

The Quickening of Salmon & Years

From this island                to that isthmus. Here, an egg.                There, a fish. As quick as that. Never mind swimming upstream, breaking       the surface                even momentarily. None of that wild fervor. You will not have cause to travel (the need’s been excised) so loll & fatten, rushing in another way to your slaughter, all sped up, hurtling…

At the Coffee Shop

Outside, a window washer watches me watching him, works a rhythm, window after window, simulating a seamlessness, tipping his squeegee after every-other downward stroke, coercing the water to run like blood from each overlapping pass, though of course he can’t touch my shining smudges, the smeared prints inside, five-eighths of a glinting inch away. ©2018…

askew in vexative disarray

askew in vexative disarray disqualified from the marching band topsy-turvy trombone drool reveille with ill-fitting trousers reliability depends upon premature remorse a bug in the hand beats a bite on the skin tumbleweed tactility orthogonal the one missing glove made for a cold hand so much so kind so what ©2018 Heller Levinson Heller‘s most…

Excerpt from YARROW AND SMOKE

A poem from William O’Daly’s fourth collection — available to pre-order in Sustainable & Global Editions. Legacy Grandfather, these inland hills and the canyons we blasted with .22s shrink in the August sun. Housing tracts put a stop to our bullets; at night streetlights climb like the edge of a wave over sage crowded slopes….

Big as the Earth

by Joe Bisicchia Accessible version: Yes, there’s an elephant in the room. Shall we ignore it? Wish it to just go away? Perhaps we should take it for a walk. Talk with it along the way. © 2018 Joe Bisicchia Joe Bisicchia was an Honorable Mention recipient for the Fernando Rielo XXXII World Prize for…

Aftermath (Photograph, 1953)

She points past a pile of fallen trees—roots upturned, knowing the grey-clouded sky for the first time. She stands in their midst, the logs lying like a giant’s game of pick-up-sticks. The bank is eroded—smooth, weather beaten. The ground is soggy, and her knee-high rubber boots seem to sink even as she stands, still pointing…

waiting for spring

sunny morning — my hands feel the warmth in a new bag of compost ©2018 Marina Bellini Maria Bellini discovered late in life the joy of writing haiku. Now she just keeps going.

An interview with Paco Márquez

The Global Edition of Portraits in G Minor launched this week. Márquez will be signing copies at Folded Word’s PressFest! table and reading at BGSQD in NYC on 20 April 2018. by Kristine Esser Slentz Paco Márquez’s living room looks like many writers’ I know, complete with a large, paper filled desk and litany of…

untitled cherita

by Stacia O’Connell Accessible version: I spent Sunday canning peaches, sugar-spiced songs swayed in the tangy-tart steam that filled the kitchen, a hazy backdrop for an afternoon matinee with a spoon. ©2018 by Stacia O’Connell Stacia O’Connell is a second life accidental poet, artist, and chef from Florida.