Summer at Twenty-One by Eva M. Schlesinger
“Summer at Twenty-One” by Eva M. Schlesinger I loved the air before dusk Still warm, no longer hot I lay in the front porch hammock, the crickets singing with glee kids playing ball on our dead end Merry Street I lay watching the sky change from light blue to stardust to purple writing in a little notebook my grandmother gave me I wrote about the moment I was in I had sunk my teeth in like a delicious apple...
The Arbor of Chance by Peggy Dobreer
“The Arbor of Chance” by Peggy Dobreer ____________________ Share your response to this work, in any form, here Peggy Dobreer Artist Statement: Peggy Dobreer is a Los Angeles native, poet, dancer, teacher, founder of E=Mc2Bodied Poetry Workshops, and curator of THE RwIrGiHtTe READ at Stories Books. She is widely published, has one collection titled, In The Lake of Your Bones, Moon Tide Press,...
Poem as a Field of Action by Berwyn Moore
“Poem as a Field of Action” by Berwyn Moore We seek profusion, the Mass—ill-assorted—breathless—grasping at all kinds of things—as if—like Audubon shooting some little bird, really only to look at it the better. —William Carlos Williams, “The Poem as a Field of Action” I had not been thinking of death when they stung – three wasps hiding ...
Safe House by Jude Rittenhouse
“Safe House” by Jude Rittenhouse A child: eighteen months but too old in the eyes. The joy that makes you reach toward children has dissolved. This baby’s famished smile creeps beneath my skin along with the women’s bruises, missing teeth, broken limbs. Fragments I will carry with my own when I go home in one hour. Something no other woman here can do. Those in this shelter’s living room, crowded...
A Village of Their Own by Niloufar Behrooz
“A Village of Their Own” by Niloufar Behrooz There is a small village in Iran called Abyaneh. You might notice this ancient red village on your way to Tehran from Isfahan. Abyaneh is one of the oldest villages in Iran, known to have existed around 2,500 years ago, and it is considered a major tourist attraction for its historical, anthropological and architectural antiquity as well as its rustic atmosphere....
We have always known each other. Our cells breathe the same song. Our kin is paper, canvas, cloth. The light that surrounds our bodies is the first light of morning.
Susan Roney-O’Brien
. . .
The Q: How do we move from oneself to oneness?
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the cresting wave Nov 28, 2025
