Twenty five hundred years ago, the Buddha propounded (among other ideas) that nothing in existence is permanent. Bob Dylan’s “The Times They Are A-Changin” narrows this aspect of reality to a sociopolitical context. In the first instance, realization and acceptance is advised, while the second is an admonishment and a call for changes in attitude and for action as did Henry David Thoreau and others before him. A little more than a month ago when the country changed its clocks to Daylight Savings Time (DST) (on March 8, 2026), I began contemplating how we record … Continue reading Darkness Over America by Fred Wilbur→
At age five, after my country doctor grandfather dies, fascinated by the black-and-white photos in his discarded depression-era medical books stacked in a corner of the barn, I study at length, extra carefully, one picture of a man with not only bulging gray lumps on his neck and chest, but also a black rectangle covering his eyes. Why was it put there? Holding my hands over my eyes, trying to imagine what it is like to have a disfigured body, hearing rumbles and pings merging and building to a kettle drum crescendo as rain … Continue reading It’s Raining by Ben Sloan→
The way down is always harder than the way up. On the way up a mountain, your muscles strain to push you vertically. Going down, you’re already tired and you’re fighting gravity to keep from falling. And fall I do, slipping on mud covering a smooth rock, and tumbling face down, my eyeglasses rocketing into a nearby tree. When I was younger, I didn’t think twice about hiking up a mountain. I enjoyed the challenge and the soreness that followed, my body’s signal that I had accomplished something special and was fit enough to do … Continue reading Coming Down the Mountain by E. H. Jacobs→
………………………………………………………….Tarsila do Amaral (Brazil, 1928) Since you last crossed the still, moonlit waters Waters grown moody for the fainting dawn Dawn advancing but for the last starlight Starlight gifts of spellbound magic for two Two, we knew, both full with reflected moods Moods long-expressed in your rhythmic cycles Cycles of your full light, waning for rest Rest like a new moon to relight our flame Flame of your crescent hung to leave hearts full Full moon, I was drawn to your drifting charm Charm found in your safe and secret refuge Refuge, never forgotten, for … Continue reading The Moon by Kenneth Boyd→
My Irish Catholic grandmother—no slouch herself to rosary beads and the Stations of the Cross—had a friend, Wilma, who was far more pious than she. So pious in fact, that she refused to answer the telephone, eat, cook, read the pay-puh or turn on the TV on Good Friday between the hours of 12 and 3 pm. Instead, she knelt in her living room and prayed during the Three Hours’ Agony—the hours of Christ’s crucifixion and death on the cross. Don’t get me wrong. My grandmother was all for a a solemn Catholic ritual, … Continue reading Good Friday by Kathleen McKitty Harris→
I’d already missed two periods before I went to Planned Parenthood in Berkeley. I knew the result before a woman asked if I wanted counseling. She had a lovely voice. “I always say, you’re the one to ask the questions of yourself. Who do you see in yourself, Gina, what do you want?” I answered that I was thirty-five, unmarried, and didn’t know what I wanted. “But my hormones aren’t neutral,” I laughed. “They’re saying yes but I just don’t know.” She asked about my circumstances. “The father is not committed but I’d like him … Continue reading Distances by Barbara Baer→
A few years ago, I was driving home from work, encountering typical rush hour traffic. At a red light, the car radio went dead. The light turned green. I hit the accelerator, and then the realization—my car won’t start. I am a nurse, and have been involved in many medical emergencies. The sight of blood captures my attention, but I know what to do. I can react and provide the necessary assistance in crisis situations. When it is required, I exude calmness, But any car issue, big or small, is an emergency that causes me … Continue reading Rush Hour Angels by Rosanne Trost→
Let me tell you uncomfortable I am with silence. I am handcuffed to a joke I can’t tell. Two crows are where my lungs should be. My exhales are the shape of birds. This is serious business. This is an average Tuesday. Finger in the light socket. Fork in the garbage disposal. Recycling bin blown over by the wind. The week’s detritus spread out for all the neighbors to see. I’m hungry but all my knives are too dull to cut anything. The voice coach said sing from your diaphragm. Someday I’ll have an office … Continue reading Same River, Different Day by Patrick Meeds→
My memories of the time when my parents and I lived in a renovated gristmill are of course dim—I had only been two when we moved there and four when we left—but they are my first memories, and they are filled with tone. I remember the narrowness of the house, with two rooms on each of its three floors, and the oldness, darkness, and coolness of its log interior. I remember my mother’s shiny stainless-steel percolator in the basement kitchen, and its swish-and-gurgle pattern that sounded like labored breathing. I remember the kitchen stool, which … Continue reading Talking to Toads by Tutt Stapp-McKiernan→
…………………………………………………….A poem is never finished, only abandoned …………………………………………………………..–Paul Valery In a downtown daze I trolled among towers reeking of success, rising proudly into the sky, and between them found an alley of orphans, all my incomplete gestures, children who made and dismayed me, never found a home in my heart. They fled the disregard to which I condemned them, banded together, unselfishly shared their pain and painkillers, and admired each others deformities. They tattooed my ink into their fists and waited, one-eyed and one-armed, (the eye full of spite, the arm heavily armed), hoping that … Continue reading Reckless Abandon by Dudley Stone→
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