Salmon River below us, all teem and roil.
Pinned to each crest, remnants of starlight
wink. And that posse of rocks could be
flints, sparking this cold northerly’s
steel
One night when I am gone
J. M. Jordan recently began writing again after a twenty-year hiatus. He is a Georgia native, a Virginia resident, and a homicide detective by profession. His poems have appeared recently in The Chattahoochee Review, Image, The Carolina Quarterly, Dappled Things, Louisiana Literature, Modern Age and elsewhere.
Brother Frank Walks the Abbey Woods
I never tire of these woods,
having walked them since I arrived
young, intemperate, intent on living
beyond death among these men of practiced habit.
Winter Solstice
by Cortney Davis –December 21, 2020 Tonight the air had the scent of earth, of dust,like old books in a sunlit library rarely used. We drove out to an overlook…
Silent Chorus
by Jody Collins Dust echoes with his not-voice,the fingered sentence setting her free.Onlookers speechless, he bendsagain to slice truth in the dirt.His body unfolds, meets her gaze,crowd vainly listens behind…
Quotidian Fever
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Valentine w/a Sentence Inside it
by Ken Meisel Some valentines have sentences in them first.That’s why everything I loved, in one moment, changed when you interrupted me.All love is an interruption of that madness that…
Driving There and Back
by Luci Shaw Between generous fields of ripe cranberries andthe gleam of corn stubble we drive toward the base ofSumas Mountain, a stutter of gravel under the tires.Roadside, the vine…
