By Ellen Orr
As cast in copper, pelican reflects. // Pale plumage tarred brown. Preening // for naught: water seeps in, chills.
There is an instant in all // Beginnings and endings // Where trees wait to bloom, // And rivers wait to flow.
A snake removes its skin // and sheds what little innocence // we might have given credence to.
By Glenn Wright
The black and yellow wasps // came at us from all directions.
By Howie Good
First I tried reading myself back to sleep. Then I tried the couch. // Then I visited among the other insomniacs scrolling on Facebook
By Faye Wikner
GREY — our eyes meet, made of the same biology // and helplessness. We are every shade I have hunched // beneath, every spoonful of rain in soggy tracks I diverted // from. SEE, here?
By Ann Weil
Gary reads coffee grounds, grows three-leaf clovers, and carries an unlucky rabbit’s ear.