by Simon Perchik
This dirt still mimics sweat / lies down alongside, unsure / your lips would quiet it / though the finger that is familiar / probably is yours –could be enough
by Lowell Jaeger
Silence after I call your name this morning / earns another black mark in the roll book.
by Mark Ramirez
I wonder what it feels like to die; to feel the rhythm of your body / fall to rest as you watch your final breath dissipate, / to speak only through dreams and the grainy film of memory.
by Art Nahill
Kneeling amidst / the camellias, roses / culling the self / sown from the cultivated / the disdained / from the highly-regarded / I’m reminded / how circumstance / defines us
by Rustin Larson
I soak my sleeve in water just to foul things up a bit, / Create a small level of misery, to keep the defense / Honest.