Arriving Home When I cross the harbor bridge, I’m home. In awe of intersecting sky, river, ocean, mountains sloping down to fields, wild roses, Queen Anne’s lace. I inhale them with all my senses. Arriving at the cabin, I catch my breath. We ran through these hay fields as children. Here my grandparents worked the land, sea and woodlands without rest. Now it is our summer haven. Afternoon sunlight streams into the kitchen. I look for the great bald eagle…
Inspiration from Cao Jun’s Hymns to Nature Exhibit Volcanoes are ancient teachers Rising up from the magma Core of planet earth The effluent bringing forth All the swirling elements of life Choking out gaseous Fiery energy and chaos Creating oceans and rivulets Mountains and savannas Landscapes for the tiger Spewing lava and ash For the delicate lotus To break through Reaching to heaven Painters and poets Are modern interpreters Of universal truths Written in calligraphy Hidden deep within the …
It’s been a long winter. Like winter would never leave. Ever leave. Even though it was fairly mild where I live, the mood was winter for a long time. The mind of winter. The soul of cold. Perhaps it’s the state of the world. The economy. The cultural and political fights. Endless and ultimately boring. Perhaps. That said, spring is here and just in nick of time. By the way, who is this Nick character and what did he do…
Reincarnation Look for me after I die I’m coming back as a cello All the emotions intact With cool low sawing notes Heart rising in the throat Brought to near ecstasy By the sweet caress of Yo-Yo Ma Gently drawing the seductive tones From my spruce and poplar heart With his pernambuco slow bow Notes of longing contentment Disappointment Haunting darkness and spiccato joy My next life of pure passion The giving and receiving of it Back and…
We have new poems from Doreen LeBlanc and an essay from Sean Howard on tap. Both authors hail from Cape Breton, though Doreen splits time between Nova Scotia and Massachusetts now. This is her first publication, and we look forward to more poetry from her in the future. Sean’s work brings together a host of subject fields — psychology, philosophy, linguistics, science, poetry and poetics — to startle us into reading new bridges, new metaphors between them. …
Belle Côte Bog Nestled in the dense moss Hanging by threads In the squishy spongy bog The ripe fruit Coated in a Purple misty fog Turning bright Cranberry red From the warmth Of my cold fingers By the Wharf I stand at the wharf As the fishermen unload They know their work I stand amazed As my young cousin deftly filets A mackerel for me Tossing the guts Overboard I know my own work Back in the city But it…