The Cafe Review

by Diane Wakoski The stones, not Olmec. Break your ankle against saw palmetto a slash of brawling foliage, unregulated And

by Diane Wakoski thinking of Patricia Waters in St. Augustine With Minerva’s eyes of corrugated knowing she wraps us in hand –

by Diane Wakoski “Take one,” she said, opening her closet of frankincense & myrrh. In it hung anoraks, parkas, wool jackets, raincoats, even

by Thomas Meyer And Jacob called unto his sons, and said, Gather yourselves together, that I may tell you that which shall befall you in the last

by Hugh Seidman The Andeans sledge for Morococha copper. They hoped quick years: to buy land — or a son from the pit. In the Cemetery of Heaven,

by Hugh Seidman Rink down — up last fall mirroring summer. 1200 steps to work — Seventh to Madison. First, past 50 — your bridal two step. New,

Jerome Rothenberg from The Gorky Variations draws blood from stone or brilliance that a paper bag conceals men on a journey who can spy

by Rochelle Owens It is about skin and hair of the yoga mistress from Rosario Portugal remember how I said her hair was a long hanging rope

by Ron Padgett Humming in the dark from a throat that has just swallowed a hummingbird

by Ron Padgett Pretty little angel eyes on a dark background follow you into the foreground and then close the moment you feel they are about to

Cart