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Before he loved the starsHe loved the paint, the brush, the canvasHe loved the ear he sacrificedHe probably loved a womanWe cannot go back in timeand see what drove himBut if love is a key to everything,Why did he love the night? Lynette G. Esposito, MA Rutgers, has been publishedContinue Reading

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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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I. Alice Everlasting Sure, the Dodo had its raceand I got my thimble backbut pattern recognitionhas been daunting ever since,the air marked by so much passing,blurry with regret. It’s hard to trusta shape, a beginning or an end,when all is crossing borders trailing ghostsof other minds and the remnants ofContinue Reading

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“Odd how the creative power at once brings the whole universe to order.”Virginia Woolf “The creative adult is the child who survived.”Ursula K. Le Guin PrefaceIn the shadows of the marble walls,where echoes of ancient whispers linger, a dark arts college emerges,a tapestry woven with ink and pigment. Poets, composers,Continue Reading

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So why not use a classic form but bend the rules from norm,like this, which borrows artistry of classic sonnetrybut switches ’round the flowing sound which sonnets will perform,whose shards came down from greater bards whose words had been set free? Should this be done? Would anyone of sanity agreetoContinue Reading

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When I was a rather new student at the University where I first naively sought Enlightenment, a mere Idealist devoted to the pursuit of esoteric knowledge whose dimensions I could not remotely grasp, whose complexities I could only vaguely anticipate, whose truths I did not yet dare question, I devotedlyContinue 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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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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There was an old woman. I was quite young and green to the ways of the world. She looked like she might be a homeless person wandering about the mall in her shabby topcoat and unkept, mop-like gray hair. But she wanted to read something serious, she said, and thisContinue Reading

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“…She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,Forever wilt thou love, and she be fair!” John Keats, “Ode on a Grecian Urn” Don’t let him take those pictures when the water meltsluminous pearl around youand the last sunbathers ascend the pale ribbon trailleaving behindthe day’s opalescent heart when onlyContinue Reading