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“The child fathers the man?” ’Tis true!But note: the child is never through— whence springs so much of tragedyand comedy like you and me. James B. Nicola is a returning contributor. The latest three of his eight full-length poetry collections are Fires of Heaven: Poems of Faith and Sense, TurnsContinue Reading

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Hello, Helen.Helen Harlot, Helen Home-Wrecker, Helen Whore. Most beautiful woman in the world, hatched from a swan’s egg, product of yet another rape perpetrated by your divine slut of a father, the “omnipotent” thunderer. His many bedfellows tell a different story.In all the myths, you are glittering, resplendent. And always,Continue Reading

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On November 22, 1963, Joan sat on the gym floor, dressed out for gym class when the news of President Kennedy’s assassination blared through the loud speakers, reverberating down the halls.Coach Mancini came out of the office to talk to her girls, tears streaming down her face. All stood asContinue Reading

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Stay close to any sounds thatmake you glad to be alive. Hafiz through the morningstill silenced by darknessyour sudden eruptionallegroarpeggioappoggiaturajoyful enoughto resurrect icarusto enjoin him nidicolousto soar forth once againairborne on wingéd rhapsodyoh songbirdyou remind usthat we can never flytoo close to the sunand i too risefledged by your warblingwhichContinue Reading

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A Sonnet on Robert Frost’s “Mending Wall” Two neighbors both bring bricks in burly hands,their gnarled knuckles ready for the taskof keeping neighbors friendly when demandsof conversation’s more than they would ask. They’ll share a calloused smile once they’ve returnedeach spring, to make sure neighbors will atonewith reparations for theContinue Reading

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“At last a deed worth doing. I say there is beauty in this….” Henrik Ibsen, Hedda Gabler Hedda, we misunderstood you,saw a monster embodyingthe Seven Deadlies,a remorseless disrupter,deceptive and cruel,eluding boredom, inflictingpain. But your handsome faceand warrior heart weren’tsensible gear for your day. Were you a goddess, we’d expectthe flirtingContinue Reading

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Scavenged from the poem “Sway” by Denis Johnson In terror I did not knowwhat to say. Between the bones,grey breath, tarantella of once-feathers,a pillow of herself, too much, it seemed,for a skull this size. This is a story that beginsso stealthily, it’s over before we know something’s there.Now the floorContinue Reading

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Do I mention you by name? Tell them how I lost you? Or do they already know –your presence already humming in the hive? This honey-colored day should be gray, misted and fogged as my dreams.Or maybe not. Maybe the sun glides over the sycamores and sweet gums, flecks theContinue Reading

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I’m stacking empty shelves,in an empty Superstore.Between the empty spaces,I see a strange old manmopping the black and white floor. Slowly the spaces are filled,baked beans, peas and peachesblock out my view of the aisle.Still, I hear the swish of the mopon the shop’s filthy floor. With my empty trolleyContinue Reading

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THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PRESENTS PAST On our twelfth year’s Christmas we triedTo find ourselves the kind of couple whoSwings but instead it became you me &A third wheel who all but wrapped mouthsAround our ornamented curriculum vitaeBlushing we offered ourselves peppermintParty shooters w/ a real bad name Santa’sFrosty NippleContinue Reading