#69 November 2018

#69 November 2018, 2018

A Rainbow of Oil by Carol A Alexander

A serviceable pool of light drips into dream while my father haggles to highway back before the sundown’s scrim. Which really is dark’s absence, strip malls and invitation, the slightly rancid smell of frying clams. I cannot grasp the magnet of his East– the lure of foul Elizabeth, how cities always stink with raw desire.

#69 November 2018, 2018

Deeper Lives by Carolyn Cordon

The sky, the horizon, my love for both Love for people – family, friends Honesty eternal, it never ends Truthful engagement, heart and soul – Follow the sky up to the stars Or horizon’s line that mankind mars Pathways followed, dead ends, or none The journey, life’s lessons, go where you will Learning continues if

#69 November 2018, 2018

Nightcap by Helen Freeman

Late at night my husband and I go into the kitchen. We prattle about this and that: who’s eaten the most apple pie? What to cook for the next dinner party – the regular? Lasagne? And which cat is that intoning a nocturne outside our door? We scrutinise the glued pan handle, contemplate when the

#69 November 2018, 2018

The World Without by Bill Glose

Next door, neighbors shuffle junk in their yard, scrap metal and rusted-out appliances to resell on weekends. Across the street, two girls play hopscotch in a driveway, screechy giggles trilling through windows of our house, where a ticking clock stabs silence like a needle without thread. Staring at the muted TV as if scrolling text

#69 November 2018, 2018

Look Down by Ryn Holmes

here, I’m in Hell, my scars plain to see, there’s no drama – stolen – no one knows me now. That time I was living insanely, I used up my words, made an ass out of myself. I am danger, everything to lose, down so low my brain stops – I’m not myself. Wearing basement

#69 November 2018, 2018

next door by Stephen House

in her worn dressing gown she leans over our falling down fence asks me if i’m doing ok i tell of ongoing tests and painful biopsies waiting on cancer results it’s not looking good her eyes mist over concerned and with care i glance at a graze on her hand and wrist magpie lands near

#69 November 2018, 2018

shared darkness by Stephen House

a tall thin man dressed in a filthy frock shuffles along these streets each day i drag myself along them too on trodden grime we separately seek our own evaporating reasons for these solitary rambles to anywhere else but the wasted now of this weeks of passing each other without word spoken no nod or

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