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Poetry 1
Spring 2011






(from a poetic vision of January 20, 2011)


 Santiago del Dardano Turann



My mind flew through a portal made of stone

Into a storm of rainbows in a cyclone.

Then to a pearly field of flashing shapes

That came in focus as a twilight landscape

Of coastal redwoods with tall ferns and huckleberry

In which white flowers glitter with stars' purity.

A trail of rich green grass ran by old cedars

With blue hydrangea all along its border.

The forest dressed in perfect stillness, mute

Until long ambient notes flowed from a flute

Like meditative fox calls through the air.

The music seemed to vibrate everywhere

And slowly crested as I walked along

The grassy trail until the trickling song

Lay in my heart like tourmalines of dew.

Where was the flautist? Standing there I knew

That camouflaged amid the trees and bark

Were staring eyes. It's then I heard the bark

Of foxes in a rhythm to the wooden

Flute until the figures that were hidden

Emerged from all around me and in truth

I've never seen such gorgeous, godly youths!

Each one of them was dressed in a kimono

Of silk as soft as his clear skin aglow

With vitality and in their eyes

Were amber tones of childhood's summer sunrise.

They all bore small, abstract and colored tattoos

Upon their faces and their long hair blew

In thick, rich layers teasing at the air.

I thought perhaps there might be twenty there

Although most stood far off and only four

Were near. Their hair and clothes were matching colors:

One red, one black, one silver and one gold.

The music stopped and silence filled the wold.

The four reached in their obi, took a scroll

Then raised it as I saw the parchment unroll

In curling ribbons with antediluvian characters

That bubbled as they transformed into water.

The paper melted in the merging brook

To form a flowing phosphorescent book

That rolled across the ground up to an oak.

Red letters still appeared within the flood

That splashing on the tree reshaped the wood

Into a long and pitch black gothic portal.

The edges shimmered with a silver metal

That radiated into curling lines

Of delicate and entangled Celtic designs.

I asked, “What is this path, where does it go

To worlds above or to those worlds below?”

The fox boys' only answer was a smile

And then to change themselves back to their animal

Forms before they hopped off out of sight,

Or were they giggling hidden in the twilight?




Bio: Santiago del Dardano Turann was born in Cincinnati, Ohio, in April of 1968.  He grew-up in rural Butler county.  After a period of wandering, ranging from New York to Israel, he finally settled in San Francisco, California.  He does not have a college degree and has worked blue collar or retail jobs his whole adult life.  Besides poetry, he practices  two martial arts.  His website is: www.dardanidae.yolasite.com







   by Richard Fein



How she walked among trees,


(After researching the field guides

to match the wayward caterpillar with its proper leaf,

she knelt almost prayerlike

and took the bug from the dirt path and searched

the knotted green till she found the plant,

and like a ballerina she stretched her arms,

while her fingers

slowly placed the bug on the greenest leaf,

as her drab‑green‑baggy pants pulled

tight against her legs;

then so carefully she arranged all the foliage

so not a mote of the woods was disturbed

by her rescue.

I don't remember the details

of her lecture on flora or fauna,

or even if her face was pretty or plain.)


I remember only how she walked among trees.




Bio: Richard Fein was a finalist in The 2004 Center for Book Arts Chapbook Competition

He will soon  have a Chapbook published by Parallel Press, University of Wisconsin, Madison.

He has been published in many web and print journals such as Southern Review, Foliate Oak,  Morpo Review, Ken*Again   Oregon East Southern Humanities Review, Morpo, Skyline,Touchstone, Windsor Review, Maverick, Parnassus Literary Review, Small Pond, Kansas Quarterly, Blue Unicorn, Exquisite Corpse, Terrain Aroostook Review, Compass Rose,  and many others. He also has an interest in digital photography and has published many   photos.Samples of his photography can be found on http://www.pbase.com/bardofbyte   photo album




Wildflowers bobbing

  by Joan McNerney


in open fields. Two fabulous

daffodils sprout from

your eyes. Falling dizzy in

love as o so lackadaisical

breeze tugs at shirt sleeves.


Again we are flushed in

warm love caress. Solar

energy orbiting billions of

grass blades. Hum hum

hummingbirds hurry hurry

pass us tripping giddy

in love.


Bio: Joan McNerney’s poetry has been included in numerous literary magazines such asSeven Circle Press, Dinner with the Muse, Blueline, 63 channels, Spectrum, and three Bright Spring Press Anthologies. Four of her books have been published by fine literary presses. She has performed at the National Arts Club, Borders Bookstore, McNay Art Institute and other distinguished venues. A recent reading was sponsored by the American Academy of Poetry. Her latest title is Having Lunch with the Sky, A.P.D., Albany, New York.