Poetry

by Kevin T McEneaney In Poland, there are mysterious trees, a small forest of about four hundred. These trees have a sinister, crooked base. * Scientists are still puzzled about…

by Kevin T McEneaney Many judge poetry irrelevant to the future of humankind. Creation is a poetic puzzle we attempt to translate into numbers that will encode speculative answers, which…

by Kevin T McEneaney      for Matt Finley The cornet descends from the herdsman’s horn, from about twenty thousand years ago, usually notched from an old, dead goat’s horn. *…

by Kevin T McEneaney Under the brightly shining supermoon the autumn landscape of withered-brown leaves is illuminated in a bright hue. Even the insects are taken by surprise… * October…

poem by Kevin T McEneaney My brain has been shut down by a majority of frontal brain cells who claim a lack of nutrients emerging from stomach and colon. *…

Picking raspberries is my favorite childhood memory with the sun shining at my back with a gentle, tickling breeze on my nose as drifting clouds scud above, aerial messengers of…

by Bill Keller Pools  Rain refills the narrow poolsthat flank the trail, swelling themwith shadow, stillness, stench,darkly rotting birch stumps,vague masses captive at the edge.... I take another step, squelchin a…

by Kevin T McEneaney Transcendence was a secular ideal with humanists in the last century, but currently it appears to be folly. Today, transcendence is limited to religious meditation, poetry,…

by Kevin T McEneaney When did you last speak to a small beetle? Was it hiding under dandelion? You should speak to a beetle once a year since they account…