POETRY
“At the Heart of the Present,” read by Tina Quinn Durham.
(Editor’s Note: The following poem is best viewed on a wide-screen)
At the Heart of the Present
We cannot see
the birth, an upwelling
carbon bonding
oxygen, transforming
what feeds the stranger
that we call spirit
the soul’s secret longing
we remember
resurrection
life so small
begins in the skin
in the dark with
what will be discarded
ruby juice and sugar
it becomes the blood
that makes the wine
we drink
“Every Day There Are Hints,” read by Tina Quinn Durham.
Every Day There Are Hints
Death is coming closer:
the jingle of the bells
on his horse’s bridle.
Black horse, red bridle,
silver bells, so pretty.
“Apocrypha,” read by Tina Quinn Durham.
Apocrypha
He knew that he was meant to die.
As a child he watched the sparrows fly
into evening and the dark.
He watched the candle's glowing spark
and knew his flame would catch the night
like wings reflecting fading light,
kindling death to life.
His mother saw him looking out
at bats and stars. Perhaps she thought
him still a child, seeing night, afraid,
and touched his tunic; she bent to say,
"Do not fear. Darling, come to bed,"
leaned toward his hair and kissed his head
as he turned from shadows and faced
the flame.
Tina Quinn Durham is a poet, artist and musician living in rural Arizona. She received her MFA in Creative Writing from Arizona State University, and has been a poetry editor at Hayden’s Ferry Review and Sandcutters. Her work has appeared in Space and Time, 2River View, Boston Review and elsewhere.
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Image: By Nephron – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, Link. Modified by Veronica McDonald.
Heart of Flesh Literary Journal 
I especially like how the first one is set. Prompts different ways of reading the same words to obtain different meaning.
I like how they all sound in your own voice.
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