Poetry

Six Poems - Tobi Alfier

Before the Scattering
 
We knew that soon we’d split apart
like the lumber we shattered and carried
up the dunes to our private place,
the sound of the ocean just over the ridge,
breeze turning to wind with the lowering sun
and our thoughts turning inward to remember.

Six Poems - Joobin Bekhrad

FROM ‘THE SAILOR’

I
Even with his prayer
Still moist on my lips,
And in his presence,
’Bove gilded steppe,
Did he stand veiled
Atop the mountain
In astral navel fixed,
Watchtower awash
In primordial light,
Whose violet heights
We’d scaled, weightless,
With crumpled wings
In belated returning;
But I closed my eyes,
Still drunk with sleep,
Smiled all the same —
Blind to his face,
But happy knowing
That I would ever be
Within his shadow.

Seaside Salmagundi

Three Sea Poems

 By Jeffrey Alfier
 
Tales I Might’ve Told a Runaway at a North End Beach
 
I.
 
From a blanket spread over undulant sand,
a woman leaned up on her elbows,
glanced at clouds that suddenly cut the sun.
The shore went dark.

Poetry Potpourri

St. Paul's stained glass windowThree Poems

By Timothy Resau
 
Rendezvous at St. Paul’s
 
Rendezvous outside St Paul's stained-glass windows—
lips locked—
breathing crowded
with floating radiation—
Why say more when
Jesus is behind the wall,
selling knives to Lord Byron,
as Ms.

Poetry Holiday Grab Bag NYC

NYC Holiday TaxiNew York City Poems

By Francesca Marais
 
Shortchanged 5th Ave Blues
 
his hands stroke the warm brass
as his fingers orchestrate a sultry
numbah
the dehydrated leaves now Halloween orange
begin to confetti from the trees
next door Central Park playing piper
to the stoopers moochers
MET and museum enthused
 
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Poem

"What's good?" from the other side.

Great news: I'm alive and well in living color... just not in the way that you are used to... and for that I'm sorry.

Did you get my message? The one left near the body I chose to leave behind?

It's been lonely... and I might not be there now... but I'm always with you.

Noise

Pexels
Noise
 
I look through the darkness but see nothing.
Blackness lets my imagination erupt—
multiplying…
 
When a noise is heard,
its power overwhelms me.
Where is it coming from?
 
Listening could become a habit.
Difficult to break.
I want quiet to surface in
this night air.
 
Resting my hands on my bed,
rocking myself to sleep…
I nestle within.
 
Stalki

My Secret

Chelsea neon signI’m suddenly 
one of those people 
who goes out 
to dinner alone. 
The wind around 
the Chelsea Piers 
is warm tonight. 
A dog on 10th Avenue 
barks so loud 
I can feel it, 
clawing at 
some part of me 
refusing people 
but okay with trees. 
There are still so many 
things I wouldn’t mind 
forgetting. Like the mail 
key I keep losing 
or the plant 
I almost bought 

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