by Allison Grayhurst
Cradle the handle under the sleeve
and watch and watch as the sun changes the shadows.
Blue. I wait in the private everafter with
the future under my fingernails and an orange seed
in my throat.
Will it happen or will it always be ‘the wait’?
Like waiting in the moment just before bloom
but never arriving into full colour? Or is it only
a long pause, gathering breath for the final
swing that will bury all dullness that has gone before?
I see two doors and neither of them are open.
I see a tree I have walked by many times before. This time
I noticed it and smiled.
Maybe this is not darkness at all,
but a line to follow and focus on
like a child watching rain drops – one at a time.
Bio: Over the past twenty years, Allison Grayhurst's poems have been published in journals throughout the United States, Canada, and in the United Kingdom, including The Antigonish Review, Dalhousie Review, The New Quarterly, Wascana Review, Poetry Nottingham International, The Cape Rock and White Wall Review. Her work was also included in the Insomniac Press anthology Written In The Skin. Her book Somewhere Falling was published by Beach Holme Publishers, a Porcepic Book, in Vancouver in 1995. She lives in Toronto with her husband, two children, two cats, and a dog. She also sculpts, working with clay.
After Jane Kenyon
by Rick Bailey
You lie on my chest. Fever
comes and goes,
like humid August heat.
Rain batters the sugar maples;
they twist in the slashing wind,
shivering through the storm
like resilient orphans.
Suddenly I know you will leave me.
All night your breathing
will cool and come easier, slowing
like mine, on your own.
Bio:Rick Bailey’s work has appeared in Georgetown Review, Chattahoochee Review, Oxford Magazine, and College English. He
practiced creative writing a little bit at the University of Michigan, then quite a lot more after finishing his Doctor of Arts degree there.
by Mayim Moonchild
A color so vivid,
even the oldest eyes can see,
Seventeen pigeons coo in excitement,
Something is changing,
The wind changes directions,
The rivers speeds up,
The milkman runs out of dairy products,
No just Tuesday.
Bio: Mayim Moonchild is a young poet who just recently discovered her love of writing. As a model, many of her poems are written about her life on the go and making temporary homes. In her free time she enjoys reading and organizing. She currently has two pet cats named Sophie and Lily who like to curl up on her bed on chilly nights.
The Yoyo Man
by Marigold Blue
The Yoyo Man
Manipulates the toy
In the palm of his hand
He finds such joy
By his command
He makes the ordinary
Dance, sleep or stand
And feel extraordinary.
In a brilliant balance
The yoyo man manipulates the yoyo
Just because he can
It soars, races, sings and spins
Flying in every direction
Over and over again.
He is a master at his craft
For under his thumb
His many maneuvers make the yoyo hum
First it rises up then he lets it down
Allowing it to plummet
Until it’s unwound.
Sadly the Yoyo Man
Will soon get tired
And the toy he once so desired
And so expertly manipulated
Will be set aside
And he won’t care that the yoyo
He played with from the start
Is my very fragile heart.
Bio: Marigold Blue calls Louisville, Kentucky home. She attended Centre College and graduated from the University of Kentucky with a BA in Elementary Education in 1983. She has been an elementary school teacher, a mother, daughter, wife, sister, volunteer, and now she is relishing her role of writer. Marigold is married and has two sons--an adult and a teenager. Iconic Publishers will publish Marigold’s first novel in 2012 under their Jonquil Press imprint. She has currently completed three novels and is in the process of writing two others. Marigold also writes children’s books, short stories, and poetry. She’s self-published eleven photography books and counting. In 2003 Publishers Printing Company published a cookbook she wrote to benefit her church. Marigold’s website is MarigoldBlueBooks.com.