Tag: stars

Thursday | Jackson Culpepper

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Image: Jeremy Vessey 
Thursday 

Hoarse chimes of the clock		- - Stars float in slower time
All needs of the day, immediate	--  The moon a pensive sliver
My blood is a to-do list, circling	 -- Crepuscular stir and watch
My bones a calendar, days creaking The cold is a single clear note
Paper, then screens, these walls	- - The ridge gleams amid the dark
Anxious shoulder, spine’s regret	- - Light and cold regard one another
What is time but lines and curves -  And Earth awaits her warmth
What is time but a moving whip	-   The sun breaks, a silent promise
Work, a twitch at the mouth		-- A billion tiny eyes await
Work for whom? Forever whom	- -A million tiny bodies, wrapped against cold
Where is my soul in all of this?	-- They emerge, they trod, they watch the sky
One meeting, five meetings, 		-- A dawning world of hawk and rabbit
Will there be a real meeting?		-- Deer tails wait to hie, among their quiet steps
I know the world is wrong–		-- Foxes keep silence like antique monks
Then what can I do right?		-- The creek is dauntless, indefatigable
Let me throw one starfish		-- Water cares not for freezing, for warmth nor cold
Grace of graces, let me know it	-- A day of walking, watching, eating, killing, giving
Let me live someway here		-- Always parents for their children
Where they took away the paths	-- Always under a glowing, constant sky.

Jackson Culpepper (he/they) grew up in Georgia and has since lived in Southern Appalachia, the mountain west, and the desert southwest. His debut short story collection, Songs on the Water, is forthcoming in August from Homebound Publications, where he won the Landmark Prize for fiction. He lives and teaches first-year English in the Denver area. You can find him on Instagram @JCCulpepper and online at jacksonculpepper.wordpress.com.

Candy Kiss Breeze | Nicole Taylor

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Image: Steph Q

Candy Kiss Breeze

—————–stars swim with time

——-attend tennis golf — frisbee

————————- —— lawn warmth and books

I he learn
——- serenity enjoy
driving for —————— trees roses


——————— ———-  be
———————————– – — able

hammock stay read – – – – – – – – – – – – — —flowers
—————————————–comfortable
——————————– candy
—————————————–kiss
————————————————–breeze

Nicole Taylor lives in Eugene, Oregon. She has been an artist, a hiker, a poetry note taker, a sketcher, a volunteer and a dancer, formerly in DanceAbility in Salem, Oregon. Her poems have appeared in Boneshaker: A Bicycling Almanac, Camel Saloon; Cirque Journal; Clackamas, Literary Review; Graffiti 1; Just Another Art Movement Journal – New Zealand, West Wind Review among others. You can read and hear more of her poetry at oregonpoeticvoices.poet/312/, a collection of Oregon poets with written and audio poetry available online through Lewis & Clark College in Portland, Oregon.

Again, The Blue Moon | Anne Iverson

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Image: Haylee Booth

again, the blue moon

If you need to move past the past
and have it absent in the present

then ride on the big blue bulge
of the blue moon

wafting cross
the great lake of sky

find absolution in stars
hand pick them

peel back their skin
taste of heaven’s fruit.

Anne Iverson is a writer and artist.  She is the author of  five poetry collections: Come Now to the Window by the Laurel Poetry Collective, Definite Space and Art Lessons by Holy Cow! Press; Mouth of Summer and No Feeling is Final by Kelsay Books. She is a graduate of both the MALS and the MFA programs at Hamline University. Her poems have appeared in a wide variety of journals and venues including six features on Writer’s Almanac.  Her poem “Plenitude” was set to a choral arrangement by composer Kurt Knecht. She is also the author and illustrator of two children’s books.  As a visual artist, she enjoys the integrated relationship between the visual image and the written image.  Her art work has been featured in several art exhibits as well as in a permanent installation at the University of Minnesota Amplatz Children’s Hospital.  She is currently working on her sixth collection of poetry, a book of children’s verse, and a collection of personal essays.

An Abandoned Dance | Chandrama Deshmukh

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Image: Jeremey Thomas

An Abandoned Dance

We have directions
Of a lost map
That leads nowhere
A miraged universe
An omnipresent pause.

Someone once told me
You are your own prison
And since then
I see birds everywhere
Sleep-walking
Chasing delusions 
Shrinking into coherence.

I tore my map 
wrote poems on it
And made paper-boats
That glow in moonlight

Now
My existence whirls
In an abandoned dance
And the ink-stained wings
Are drawing 
Their own astral map.

Chandrama Deshmukh is an author, poet, playwright, theatre artist, storyteller, screenplay writer and performance artist. She has four books of poems published. A Teaspoon Of Stars and Moonlit Monochrome in English and two books in her mother-tongue Marathi. Chandrama has done close to 100 poetry performances in Bangalore and continues to play her role in giving this art-form the appreciation it deserves. To Chandrama, poetry is the streak of silver lining amidst the chaos of life. The moon is her muse.

Full Moon Reflecting off the Peaks | Donnie Hollingsworth

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Image: Nathanaël Desmeules

Full Moon Reflecting off the Peaks 

As snow does to a fire                                                                                                                             
gods who bit flowers of ink
a nest of mad kisses down the long black river                                                       
the milky way    sky’s pale vertebrae                                                                  
archipelagos of stars

framed between small branches

blossoms of small arms , nails us naked to the color                                                                 
of pink hyacinth singing    singing                                                                                                    
in deep red ripples                                                                                                                              
your voice is a pale street lamp on calm black water

just (a word planted by the water  

before I am a stone in a stone-swallowing river      
thrown 


into





sleep













————————————————– your eyes

Donnie Hollingsworth has lived in many small Rocky Mountain towns and currently resides in Lamar, Colorado–where he teaches Art and English at the local community college–with his wife, cat, and dog. His art can be found here.