POEM: Marjory Wentworth

Holy City

Let us gather and be
silent together like stones
glittering in the sunlight

so bright it hurts our eyes
emptied of tears and searching
the sky for answers.

POEM: Wendy Lee Hermance

My Mulatto Onion

On the second slicing
I noticed her aureole,
red blurring translucent white lines,
Not red, not entirely white.

The skin of copper slipped
Off a purple shoulder.

POEM: Walter Bargen

Manifest Breakfast

In a house buttressed by books and slanted morning light
slicing across the grain of the kitchen table, Lieutenant Colonel
George Armstrong Custer’s 1876 orders to pursue the Sioux
Cheyenne, Sans Arcs, Blackfeet, sits beside…

POEM: Wendy Lee Hermance

Bicycle Ride

In the mornings I’ve noticed
smells are sharper.

The trash is not yet set out.
Nothing is ripened by the sun.
The air is fresh, untarnished
by exhaust fumes

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