A Poem by John Swain
The lighthouse a stone pile on Pilot Island
as the lake changes through the blue spectrum
and then into gun metal.
Sister islands rise in the whitecaps,
I fade to the swale like a labyrinth
the black bear devours.
The birches and maple burning a pyre at fall
for the great ships to ride into death
like a clear passage through the bay of the bays.
High waves break on the white shell shore
under the green house
as a bald eagle wing trembles raining lake droplets.
The water smoothed glass like an agate singers eye
I kissed in repentance for my life
awaiting the chord of the imagining light.
In the physical, wake of Black Friday, rising from the ashes of Cyber Monday, comes Giving Tuesday – today, a day dedicated to giving instead of getting. we hope you’ll consider making a tax-deductable (in the United States) donation to the charity of your choice.
A Day’s Encounter
A Poem by Joseph Wymbs
have the same
A Poem by Michael Wymbs
–because people of color are invisible to the powers that be, let’s boycott Black Friday. Even though our skin color is different, we need to let the power structure know we still understand the value and power of the color green.
How does police brutality impact on the dead?
Notice: the police officer never touches his face.
The lesson we must teach those who cannot learn:
this is a gun. this is not a gun.
this is a bag of peanuts. this is not a bag of peanuts.
The lack of capitalization in the above four sentences is not what this lesson is about.
Why: Tamir RiceMike Brown Wendall Allen
From an email I received: the subject line—
“I’m so hurt. What the f—is this about”
A Poem by Deborah Wymbs
Because of Mike Brown, Boycott Black Friday.
Because black men are invisible, boycott Black Friday.
Because black men are dispensable, boycott Black Friday.
Because black men need to be heard, boycott Black Friday.
Because racism needs to stop, because ignorance has to end,
Because the police need to know their job, and do it right,
Because the police need to understand who they are
Before they become police. Because we no longer
Can put up with bullies with guns. Because we are no longer safe.
Because black men no longer want to be under attack
Because America is not fair, because America is not color blind.
Because black America is not at war with white America.
Because of Mike Brown, Eric Garner, John Crawford, Ezell Ford,
Dante Parker, Andrew Scott Gaynier, Dillon Taylor, Omar Abrego,
Diana Showman, Michelle Cusseaux, Joshua Paul, Maria Godinez,
Joseph Jennings, Tamir Rice, Trayvon Benjamin Martin—
Because they were black, they were murdered.
Because of Mike Brown, boycott Black Friday.
A Poem by A J Huffman
is monotonous and draining,
I am borrowing a cup of dreams
to give my nights wings. A dash
of possibilities rushes through my veins,
acts as instant sedative. Two shakes of wishes
waiting to be granted, and I am motivated
to sound, begin snoring, verberating zzz’s.
Drop in a fantasy moment of happily ever after,
and I just might be able to sleep, peacefully,
A Poem by Stefanie Bennett
She died, and the micaceous almost summer winds
Dizzily scudded across Arizona
Via the Pacific Crest
Piercing Sacramento’s side.
Nor blind intervention
Rattled that topaz blue.
She left, with a casket of leaves embellishing
The motorcade, her wish
As it lassoed the sweet aroma
And a spotted owl’s
This, the forest’s logbook accentuates
In incised resin
The colour of rain, while
‘Days of our lives’
Winged on cable, and
A Poem by Stefanie Bennett]
Do I abdicate? My year’s breath
Sight’s less detailed.
But I can still make sense of short-wave
Variations – it’s just
The pronunciation that’s altered.
Once -, aspiration’s reverence could
Be drawn from
The immense tautology
Of the bookshelf. Here; the logos!
There; the halcyon
Cloud… and I
A wistful intermediary mouthing
To the day-breaking moon.
Now, circuit-breakers can be found
Brevity begins -
The reeded pool turned holograph,
Becomes a pale
“And age,” said Han-Shan, (off-side
Of life and time)
A Poem by John Swain
Sun and hillside become
the same drought color
in the coastal morning.
Two snakes lie entwined,
one killed the other
as I awake to my purpose.
I try to find a stream of water
like your black shawl
flowing under the railing.
When I return
from below the omens
you left the essence
of lavender and sandalwood
as we diffuse.
A bird on your tongue
flew through the center
of your skull
into a summoning eye.