Issue Four: Poetry

Meet the Poets of Issue Four!

Rachel Michelle Collier:


Donnell stares, looking up: Mm! The rising moon. A pretty red twilight. A shining light and then, a gust of wind and then – twilight resumes. The color of the Man: unknown; the color of the horse he rode in on: unknown. He saw it, though. He saw some sight. Donnell stays, anticipates… READ MORE.

Gale Acuff:


There’s nobody who loves Jesus more than
I do unless it’s Jesus Himself but
that would probably be vanity,
Divine vanity and that’s not kosher,
and then there’s God, the Father of Jesus
and, some say, Jesus Himself, if it’s true
that I and the Father are one and if
you throw in for good measure the Holy
Ghost–well, I forgot where I was going

with all this unless it was and is to
swear how much I love Him, Jesus I mean,
but then here comes God and the Holy Ghost
again so I’m back where I began but
I’m not really sure where that is and was
and will be, world without end, Amen, har… READ MORE.

Don Thompson:


Lord of abattoirs, of scars, of harmless vultures just doing their job; Lord also of asbestos, of crocs in shadowed water, of wheels within wheels and roadkill—Lord of all, hear us.

You know how we live, having visited us in the flesh (though not biodegradable), having come down to us here in this cesspool of a slaughterhouse… READ MORE.

Pamela S. Wynn:


The few allowed to mourn at the grave
leave   dead to life   alive to death

Corn fields blaze   foxes run for cover
voices of the dead deafening

In the beginning there was time
so much time . . . READ MORE.

Anthony Butts:

Rainbow Soldier

From dark numerals,
in the LED display of the Texas Instruments
scientific calculator I begged my parents to purchase

as a junior high student,

to incalculable faith found
along God’s Way:
the ground laying graveled,

the journey full of turns… READ MORE.

Riley Bounds


The whole world
tried to find you
by cigarette
The apologists tithed
for an argument,
the pastors
lined up
to get
their wool
sheared… READ MORE.

Laura Lou Catherine

The Dead Sea is Not Dead to She

this sea sinks into itself;
Aviva’s serotonin level syncs itself to this sea.
she purses her lips to avoid bitterness.
Aviva now understands it completely:
this sea’s dire desire to be drowned, to be less… READ MORE.

John C. Mannone


I owe my life
to water

I was made
of water
and salt
from earth… READ MORE.

Shera Hill

Mirthios, Crete: Easter 1986

Two young white goats followed us to the pension
where we met travelers from around the world,
prepared dinner in a communal kitchen
drank Retsina
the boy from Australia talked about AIDS
how he thought it would depopulate the planet—
Armageddon from a kiss … READ MORE.

MistyRose ™ Bosworth



fragile crystal eyes
street people load bearing wall
God’s worn graffiti … READ MORE.

Matthew Miller

The Swineherd Begins to Recognize the Demon

Squealing louder than a legion at battle, pigs spearhead
the descent. They sprint down fat, knuckling rifts;
splash against windspun sea. I am also running,
but not toward the drowning. Treading dead
grasses, rehearsing excuses. Dry tinder… READ MORE.

Jonathan Taylor

Hog Slaughter, Butchertown, KY

You could smell the death on the breeze
singed alive, pungent

but that was our only knowledge,
that and the rattling tractor trailer at 6:44am.

The whole earth reeked of the scent
late summer — fall creeping through the trees… READ MORE.

Terri Martin Wilkins


The weight of loss infects my sight
No future hues remain.
I am sick to death of death.

Former things pass away
Burning desolate, unremembered,
A parched inferno fed by scorched memories
Turned unexpectedly toxic… READ MORE.

Terry Dawley

Fly to the Sun

I dreamed the sun commanded the flowers of the world to take flight and the roses and lilies and irises and peonies and even the dandelions gathered their petals together and, with a great shudder, unfurled like the wings of newborn butterflies… READ MORE.

Phyllis Hemann


My hands are as broken,
as the limbs of the fallen oak
in my backyard,

yet he gave them to me
for a purpose… READ MORE.

Carol L. Park

Being an Us

I’ve pledged to screw lids tight, but when you grasp
the relish jar on top, it falls, glass shatters.
Pickle chunks slime like algae, filling channels
of the grout. Vinegar fumes your face.

I want to change.
Resolves don’t stick nor your advice.
“Close the fridge’s double doors so edges meet”… READ MORE.

Elder Gideon

I Professed

As bright as the names branding his clothes
My cheery peer of three classes saw my armor

Even challenged me to friendly debates
That escalated into eschatology

I even after said yes just to argue
With his youth group meeting

Where I sat in a church room armed & folded… READ MORE.

Rp Verlaine

Her Great Faith

She tells me she has found hope in God’s grace.
The lamb’s blood is hers and hopes of rebirth
all past sins forgiven the day she faced
a life she despised and regained its worth… READ MORE.

O. Yemi Tubi

My Mother

My Mother the colourful Rose
In our household
Emitting the aroma
Of love and care.
The sweat of her brow,
The nutrient of our youth.
Her nectar nourished
And nurtured our growth… READ MORE.

Rachel Hayes

Out of the Ark

His foot found land and his nose bled and Noah
felt dizzy with the elevation: he was
high above the waters still churning with sotted rotting dead,
removing the soil’s curse with their life-giving decomposition… READ MORE.

Bernard Pearson

A Good Life

I am now older
Than the breeze
Coming in from
The Sea of Galilee
My legs root me here
To the ground beneath
The reed roofed, porch… READ MORE.

Read Issue Four:

Online | PDF | Print ($9)

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