by Jerzy Liebert.
How does the word so rush to the sound
When another name calling is heard?
How does the flame flash over the ground
That it’s so bright in both heart and word?
Translated by Charles S. Kraszewski
EAP: The Magazine Archive
Spring.
by Jerzy Liebert. Each bird insanely trills. Stags rest their antlers on the breasts of birch. The blue sky aches for the green earth With flaring, trembling, moist nostrils. Leaves and sap burst from the trees. Drunkenly reel both clouds and beasts. Wonders in sunlit clearings — lily mists. In copses healthy bark snaps wide […]
The Greatness that was Greece.
by Charles S. Kraszewski. It wasn’t Lucius Mummius who put an end to Greece. The self-inflicted wound was dealt ages before. We call it xenophobia, using the Greek word for it. Since they despised all other languages (and peoples) we Other People had to learn Greek. Otherwise, how could we compete with Persia in the […]
Fragmentary musings on birds and bees.
by Cliff Beck. My skin, nose and eyes sense trillions of photo-electric stimuli which my mind will synthesise and simplify to create blue skies, warm bread; every experience that fills my head with memories, generating thoughts, intuitions and future visions. But the more I think the more separated, more complicated I become sat in my […]
12 Baking Essentials to Always Have in Your Poetry.
by John Van Pelt. 1. The leavening sky. 2. Aunt Carol’s deep-dish ironware pie plate she had since Chicago days with a graying chip off the rim and a capacity suggestive of doubling any modern recipe. Not that Carol ever looked at a recipe, her hooked wrist and crabbed fingers dancing with impossible deftness, scooping […]
Broad Street.
A Death in Alexandria.
My Forked Tongue.
by Clarissa Jakobsons. Playful butterflies check milkweed plants then fly away like shooting stars turning Venus and Saturn upside down. Rainwater cleanses my hair. I rub cooked oatmeal into maple roots releasing crimson acrylics onto canvas. A disguised red hen answers the dead landline, stealing axe trimmed eggs with an axe. Neighbor foxes ravage […]
True (from “My Life with Dogs”).
by Tod Davies. She was a floppy, affectionate, shy dog. A kind of Buddhist dog, really, in her approach to life. Black and white and gray like her father, who she followed around worshipfully. I still remember the delight I felt in watching them dig a hole together in the front meadow. Happy, grinning away, […]