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Poetry 3 Winter 2015
   by Robert L. Martin
You with your secrets locked up inside
Miniscule forests carved out of throbbing pines
Page by page, word by word, answers by answers
Intelligence is your menu, your digestion
I move toward you with salivating lips
My worldly hunger, my escalating dreams
Our intimate times, my endearing moments
Not enough days to know all about you
Yet you sit on my shelf and play with me
My tears, my mumblings, my futilities
Your sovereignty, so overbearing, so intimidating
For I, the forsaken, in search of some of you
Your words upon each other, one vast ocean
And I, an enchanted sailor, ask of your mercy
Lead me to your shores, hidden by the mist
All I need of you is one love poem
Please, please, please.
Bio: Robert's work has appeared in:  Mature Years, Alive Now, Wilderness House Literary Journal, Poets' Espresso, among others.  He is  also a jazz pianist and the organist at First UMC of Wind Gap, PA for the last twenty one years.  He loves the writing of Kahlil Gibran and Pablo Neruda.   
Love and Dogness
by Donna  H. DiCello 

We begin our trek, Quincy and me, 
the air crisps clean and sharp, carrying 

no sound but pushing us to move side-by- 
side, our steps falling into ease and tandem.
He becomes what the world is opening to,
nose in air, a world of scent I cannot know,  

the dank and dreary earth softening, 
beginning to loam itself gently with promises. 

He watches my hand, looks into my face  
with such uncovering that I burn  

with shyness at what his worship sees. And still,  
I watch him leave me; brown eyes on fire  

with an ancient call, I am no match for the tribe  
that claims him, as he nuzzles deer track, focused,  

running to claim the dogness so rightfully his.  
Leaps and bounds, harrumphs and chortles mark this trail,  

as yet another scent pulls him into abandon  
with twists and turns, his jubilant legs pumping the sky,  

letting me know there are secrets here that I cannot tell of, 
nor ever know. This is the way we continue,

the pull of magnets, the dance of the other that we do, 
a contract we have entered in promising to know; 

I will not be afraid of what so urgently calls him,  
nor of my own uncovered unfaltering love . 
 Bio:Donna H. DiCello is a clinical psychologist whose first loves have always been the mind and the shape, sound, and meaning of words. After leaving academia and returning to full-time clinical practice she is   writing and studying poetry in earnest, a true “coming home.” In her poetry she values evoking both a sense of time and place as ways to emotionally reach the reader. She has had poems published with Kind of a Hurricane Press in their Something’s Brewing anthology, The Blue Heron Review, and The MOON Magazine. Along with her co-author, Lorraine Mangione, she has a forthcoming book with Impact Publishers, Inc. titled Daughters, Dads, and the Path through Grief: Tales from Italian America. Donna lives in CT with her spouse  and their spirited norfolk terrier.