SNOWMAN
by John Grey
More flakes don't bother him.
He merely grows a little here and there.
His eyes retain their pebble outlook.
Even as tobacco ices,
his mouth will not let go the pipe.
He's been carved out of his surrounds.
So was his carver,
just not so obviously.
No hole in my mother
where my flesh was gouged out.
No tube from son to father
syphoning the blood of years.
With darkness,
he becomes this temporary Buddha,
too wise to speak,
features, shadows,
with an equal role to play
in flickering street-lights
I watch him from the window.
He's solitary but,
with forethought,
I cracked his face into a smile.
Ah, if only.. .my face.. .had they...
but I'm already drawing parts
from other than my makers.
In a month or two, he'll be melted.
In a month or two, I'll be what comes next.
Bio: John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in New World Writing, River And South and The Alembic. Latest books, “Bittersweet”, “Subject Matters” and “Between Two Fires” are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in Paterson Literary Review, White Wall Review and Flights.
FALLS INTO WOBBLE
by Diane Webster
Side-by-side benches
reflect upside down
in lake waters
until a duck swims by
shattering images in wake
like a mirage of future
when nails, screws loosen
over decades, and wood
splinters, falls into wobble
into driftwood floating
on lake waters.
Bio: Diane Webster's work has appeared in North Dakota Quarterly, New English Review, Studio One and other literary magazines. She had micro-chaps published by Origami Poetry Press in 2022, 2023, 2024 and 2025. Diane was a featured writer in Macrame Literary Journal and WestWard Quarterly. Her website is: www.dianewebster.com
RIGHT AROUND THE CORNER
by Jeffrey Zable
So, I’m just about to drive into the parking lot at Wells Fargo Bank
when I see that there are no parking places available.
With that, I wait— my car still running—off the right side
with plenty of room for someone to drive out on my left.
A minute or so later, this stooped over woman—probably in her
early eighties— appears, stops about fifteen feet away from me,
and shouts, “Hey asshole, how do you expect me to get out?!
Move your damn car out of here!”
Looking at her for a moment, I can’t believe what I just heard
from this old woman.
I was about to say something equally nasty but caught myself in time.
“Sorry for any inconvenience! I’ll move over as far as I’m able
to make sure you can get out safely!” I say with a smile.
With that, she gives me a look that could have frozen the snakes
on the Medusa.
As she passes me, I give her a slight wave, and when I’m securely
in her place, I say to myself, “I sure hope I’m not like that when I reach
her age—which, come to think of it, is right around the corner. . .”
Bio: Jeffrey Zable is a teacher, accomplished conga drummer/percussionist who plays
for dance classes and rumbas around the San Francisco Bay Area, and a writer of poetry,
flash-fiction, and non-fiction. He's published five chapbooks and his writing has appeared
in hundreds of literary magazines and anthologies, more recently in Uppagus, The Paradox,
Bitter Melon, Verbal Art, Hot Pot, Beach Chair, Rundelania, Little Leaf and many others.
His selected poetry (from Androgyne Books) should be out soon.
Losing Them
by Linda Thornton Peterson
As the light comes up at dawn
And the rain wets the leaves
I think of all that’s past──
Memories that last.
Memories confused with now
And memories I forgot
As the sun begins to shine
And the rain soon to stop
The leaves begin to fall
With memories ──
I forgot
Bio: Linda Thornton Peterson, a Louisiana native, retired from Northern Illinois University as a psychotherapist and teacher. Her short stories have appeared in The Green Silk Journal and Flash Fiction Magazine. Poetry publications include: The Green Silk Journal, The Hanging Moss Journal, the Western Colorado University Journal and Northern Illinois University Journals. She won an NIU faculty poetry award and is a founding member of three DeKalb writers’ groups. She was an Associated Press stringer photographer and an art teacher; she continues to exhibit her art and write.
