by Ron Kolm

One of my favorite books
Is Anne Sexton’s
The Awful Rowing Toward God.

In the last poem
She plays a game of cards
With God
And loses.

Not too long
After finishing that book
She went to her garage
Started up her car
And drove to Heaven
Perhaps to challenge God
To a rematch.

by Austin Veldman

Some Summer Night, Ten Years from Now
for my sons

It’s in my bone again. Whispered
into my marrow like some great secret.

Understand, please, what it means to feel every
waking heartbeat. Understand, please, the privilege.

Outside — there is nothing to be done about the outside.
About the weakening of flesh. About the leaving.

Understand that the moon does this to everyone, this
look into the ye. Into the heart.

And this is what it means, the moon and all her
craters. To be wounded. To fade and fade into shadow.

Understand what you are.

My son brandishes a sparkler — a name carved into the night
and left there, the afterburn glowing like something triumphant
in the eye.

Be brave.

by Jeffery Cyphers Wright

Dream I’m swimming with Ron
and smoking a j in the East River.
Dream I take too many silly pills.
I’ve lost my marbles, says Jennifer.

Dream I get to the airport on time
for a change but can’t return the car.
Dream I back out of a bank robbery.
Dream I’m kidnaped by Circe’s twin.

Dream you are a lady bug and I
am cowbane. Onyx spots on scarlet
wings, you search my upturned face.
We share an accident of grace.

Learn by doing — lead by dreaming.
Untie knots of wind by breathing.

 by Jeffery Cyphers Wright

Let’s go to the used lingerie store and try some
on. Oh wait, that was a pastime from the past.
A spot of fun on love’s cummerbund.

Night’s menu no longer means you will come
to pass the time with me and my puppet crew.
As Ulysses said to Circe, yesterday fits perfectly.

When tears are delivered hot, the gondolier
speeds up but water remains unmoved.
Even Superman coughs, crooking his sleeve.

Recovery time varies depending on the variants.
We’ve had a good run on this little planet,
this remote outpost spinning in outer space.

Egad. The chits fall due. I’m out of milk
and cookies but I’m saving some hope for you.