←

Poetry

Seeing You On A Street Corner Downtown
by Jack Ahrens

I’m standing at the corner
Of 5th and Main,
Peering through my sunglasses
At the early spring traffic,
Cars and buses rushing by,
Along with the occasional motorcycle
Rolled out after winter’s sleep.
With my black fedora tipped
Into the wind, I could be anyone.
I see you across the street,
After ten years, you look older;
So would I, if you saw me.
I sit on the bus stop bench
And watch you talk to your companion.
A buddy from work? A brother-in-law?
A stranger? No, it couldn’t
Be a stranger—
You laugh together like friends.
The way we used to laugh.
You talk through the signal
And at the next, you part.
He heads south, downtown;
You cross the street toward me.
As you and the five other people
Crossing the street pass right by me,
You stick your hands in your coat pockets.
I almost say something.
Behind me, you turn right
And head north, probably home.
But I don’t know where that is anymore.

Clipped Wings
by Rafael F. J. Alvarado

My Demons live inside a bottle
like ten-year-old whiskey
time makes them stronger
makes me weak
by the side of the road
wanting to say goodbye
to the ones who
have left
the ones who suffered
before they left
the ones with clipped wings
the ones I knew could fly
but stayed on the ground
wishing to see the clouds
the view only dreams could show
I drank to their memory
by the far side of sanity
by the edge of the cliff
with my demons
in a hotel where dreams
are not allowed
only memory
only yesterday
over and over
’til it breaks you

For Anthony B.
by Louise Luna

To write in jazz
smooth street tones,
high-pitched verbs
and simpler words.

Lines that brush your soul
and move your feet.

Brass to kick ass
then shuffle around.
Yeah, I wish I could
write in jazz.

Smokey persistence,
clinking thoughts meet
the ice as you squeeze
through a rhythmic room.
Crowded blurry lines that
make things fade
into a solo dance and
the trumpet men
take off again. ♦