Dave Ruslander
S. Simpkins
Maggie Zhou
Maria Claudia Faverio

Dave Ruslander

Still Winter

Ignoring the calendar,
spring floats into Virginia.
Tiny fingers of chlorophyll
tickle prehensile lips.

Dandelions wink back at the rising sun,
and the first wisps of pollen float atop the pond
before dithered shadows creep over the fields,
and the first thunderclap of spring
sets the horses loping across their field.

The tarnished sky begins to hammer,
the raised seam roof of my barn.
and the chartreuse branches
of a weeping willow sway.

Copyright © 2005 by Dave Ruslander

Swamp Song

Pachelbel's Canon: the spirant sound
of a return to Chickahominy.

Blasts from winter's fowling pieces
still echo in my mind
as March flies in on the
backs of Great Blue herons.
They scrutinize potential
nesting spots.

On an unseen cue, they settle
above the gargling streams
where a whistle pig stands
on a gnarled cypress knee
blowing his frustration
at an impenetrable 20-gauge field fence.

Copyright © 2005 by Dave Ruslander

Contributor's Note: Dave lives in rural Virginia where true to the quasi-accurate-sweeping-generalization that southerners are slow, he didn't get around to writing until he was fifty. Since then he's learned to mangle language through poetry, short stories, and one novel. His work has been published in: Poetry SZ, The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature, Green Tricycle, Cenotaph Pocket Edition, Retrozine, Womensbeat, MiPo, Melic Review, and many other fine print and digital publications.

S. Simpkins

Chewed Or Cut

nothing but teeth
                            claws
wolverine hunger
everything sharp edges
everything nails
                          broken glass
spikesrazor cutsneedles
knifes & daggersforks
jagged rocks
everybody gets
                        chewed or cut

Copyright © 2005 by S. Simpkins

Contributor's Note: I'm a 56 year old recovered drunk who writes poetry. I grew up in L.A. then lived (and sobered up) in Hollywood. I also suffer from depression for which I take Zoloft. While the Zoloft has helped, I still wind up visiting those bleak barren landscapes that constitute depression. My major influences have been Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen, Allen Ginsberg and Charles Bukowski.

Maggie Zhou

i am

i am, she says
largely composed
of dirty dreams
stained, shaking and dismembered

i am, she believes
the mirror girl
built wide, too wide
to be anything else

and the vivisection
she inspects
to be flawed
futile, she sighs

i am nothing more

Copyright © 2005 by Maggie Zhou

Contributor's Note: I am an eighteen year old girl trying to make sense of myself.

Maria Claudia Faverio

Night Musings

Sitting here
at 4 o'clock in the morning
under a mangrove tree hung with stars
and insomniac birds,
I surrender to light
in spite of the early hour,
bargained into shape again.

You are not here,
you unnameable one,
but it is not a loss -
barbed-wire passions have never
excited me too much.

But the pitted moon -
what a beauty!
I could fall in love with it
like Li Po,
hug it,

then feel the compelling
kiss of the earth
and discover the working of things,
their dour splendour.

I could make earth my womb
and untie poems
like birthday presents.

You are not here.
It's not a loss.

Copyright © 2005 by Maria Claudia Faverio

Contributor's Note: I am an Australian poet who lives 80 km south of Sydney. I have just published my second poetry book. I also publish in the journals of the societies I am a member of. Poetry for me is a means of_expression, it helps me to express what I feel inside. I also write fairy tales and puzzles, I paint, play and compose music.