Friday, October 30, 2009

Running - Vanessa Page


When roadside has turned to red
and desert oaks are stenciled
neat on car window canvases
you’ve run far enough - to where
dust folds over to new thicknesses
taking with it every trace.

It’s too late for the maps, left
unfolded on the passenger seat
you’re lost in odometer’s slow roll
passing bloated marsupials
with legs stiff as tent poles
grasping the sense in endings.

Vanessa Page

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

A Free Verse Sonnet for Freya Buchanan - Phillip A. Ellis

A Free Verse Sonnet for Freya Buchanan

With the sun slowly
growing through winter,
till the spring comes at last
with its crop of birds,
and the earth itself wakes
from the somnolence that is frozen soil,
it is not strange that some may
look to the long suns of summer.

But, before you do, think on this:
each element of snow is unique,
and will never be seen again,
just as is each mote of dust
strangely attracted along the shafts
of summer sunlight on sleep-dealing days.

Phillip A. Ellis