by David Filer

Stayed up late last night,
   Thoughts in disarray.
Woke early this morning,
   thought of you all day.
I think something’s coming
   and it’s going to stay.
A little foolishness
   goes a long way.

I have the notion
   that one sun–blessed day,
we’ll head off to Paris,
   we’ll go all the way.
I think that day’s coming
   and it’ll be as they say.
A little foolishness
   travels a long way.

It’s April, cold wind
   and rain–heavy skies.
You’ve left, but I’m certain
   you’ll come back some day.
If real life isn’t working,
   I’ll make it up my way.
A little foolishness
   goes its own way.

I mowed both the lawns.
   It took me all day.
I know you’d have helped me,
   but you were far away.
Though I’m sure you’re coming,
   it never seems that way.
It takes some foolishness
   to keep my fear away.

by David Filer

it only fell
when it became too heavy

for the clouds to bear

            *
and then it had
no choice
                         gathering

where it fell
                         clinging

to anything it could

disappearing
when there was earth
to soak into

            *
someone likened it
to tears

but by then the clouds
had blown on beyond
the horizon

and sunlight reflected
off the wet streets

            *
in one part
of the country
it raised rivers above their banks

and there were
second thoughts

            *
but when a single
                         drop

fell from the blooming rose

everyone knew
it was a gift

by Jessica Purdy

An image recurs: a yellow leaf
everyone thought would land
is condemned mid–fall
to the purgatory of a spider’s web.

Palimpsest upon which the story’s written.
Ink erased, inked, re–erased
until holes rub through
like the jeans of ill–used girls.

Deleted names of girls
mothers have pained into this world,
girls singled out daily
by some mad god’s eye
cracking comfort
like the thinnest ice.

Even the dunnest sparrow
can be stalked as she moves
through browned marsh grass —
the tips shiver with minute explorations
until she’s gone and everything
left behind is still here
keeping the vigil of revision.
Consider this kind of loss.

by Kendall Merriam

Blues Moon
     for Raised by Wolves

Fog, fog
can’t see anything
its blocking life
a long time back
I was certain
about everything
now I’m certain
about nothing
will I see the pretty fillies
dancing, prancing
to your music
in the Highlands
only five days away
music of the gods
loud enough to wake up
all our souls
the music you play
makes us happy, joyous
cuts through
the crust of despair
you are the doctors
of the hearts
of everyone in the audience
fending off worry, pain
making life bearable
with strings, drums
voices
I can’t wait to hear
life going on
through your sound
in our foggy little Heaven

Listening to Lucinda Williams “World Without Tears”