Since You Ghosted*

November 12, 2017


2017 Merit Award
By Darian Karuza

The sun is a mosquito zapper
sizzling on the veranda,
calving Earth’s shadow
over a lawn of dewy comets.
I am the chrysalis duskywing
ascending latticework to its warmth.

I passed your cross
on the shoulder of the parkway
the other day. It sent crushed ice
sliding down my spine. Who
was Caroline? I can barely remember.

Maybe, what we call a phantom
is just someone’s fiery iron
mass now cast
as a cool brown dwarf,
a shade of human heat,
calfprints in memory
foam,
                    gravity wells
of a supergone black hole,
an unthawable head cold.

. . . . .
*Copyright 2017 by Darian Karuza. Broadside illustrated by Mat Hudson.

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Sudden Thoughts*

November 5, 2017


2017 Merit Award
By Aysha Burney, 11th Grade

She was like a Sour Patch Kid
Sour without sleep, then sweet
So innocent, and loving
Shaped like a plumb who
Sat in the chair from
Sunday to Monday
Sadness appeared when
She left my life
Soaring in the sad grey sky
Say goodbye to the love of my life
                         Rest in peace, Grandma

. . . . .
*Copyright 2017 by Aysha Burney. Broadside illustrated by Mat Hudson.

Dear Rain*

October 22, 2017


2017 Merit Award
By Sterling C.H. Bemment, 3rd Grade

Dear Rain,
You probably
don’t
remember me
The vast
Ocean
of sand
that is scorching hot
I would trade
all the animals
and all the plants
just for you
to visit me
And quench my thirst
And stop me longing for you
From, the Desert

. . . . .
*Copyright 2017 by Sterling C.H. Bemment. Broadside illustrated by Mat Hudson.

Let them be Cars*

October 15, 2017


2017 Merit Award
By Mason Mills, 9th Grade

Let them be cars,
Always fueled, fixed, loved,
But harnessed to the road.

I’d rather be submarine,
Cruising underwater like a shark,
Exploring the deepest depths of the ocean.

To have shattered theories,
To dive and search,
To be carried among the waves,
Currents moving me all around the world.

I’d rather be unseen,
Unknown by all,
Than to be a shiny new car,
Made in a factory,
Praised by all,
And driven by greedy hands.

If I could be alone, strong and free,
I’d rather be a submarine.

. . . . .
*Copyright 2017 by Mason Mills. Broadside illustrated by Mat Hudson.

Migration Season*

August 20, 2017


2017 Walk Award
By J.R. Lara

This is the room I was born in.
All red terra cotta tiles and green light
from the vinca-twined mountainside.
So close
you can reach your hand through the window
lay it to this cliffwall flat
like you are saying stop or hello or I surrender.

. . . . .
J.R. Lara is an environmental journalist and an MFA candidate at Western Washington University. She was a contributing writer for Green Fire: A History of Huxley College (2011), and is Nonfiction Editor at Bellingham Review and Poetry Editor at Psaltery & Lyre. Her poems and essays have appeared or are forthcoming in River Teeth, Hippocampus, Eastern Iowa Review, and elsewhere. She lives with a handsome composer and a dashing poodle in the Sunnyland neighborhood.

About “Migration Season”: The room in this poem is real, and could be found, if you knew what to look for, in a century-old house near a covered bridge and a mulberry tree in the foothills of the Delaware River Valley.

. . . . .
*Copyright 2017 by J.R. Lara. Broadside illustrated by Mat Hudson .

Untitled*

July 2, 2017


2017 Walk Award
By Robert Stern

the Trojan horse wants to retire
tired even of his appearances in comics
he wants to gallop down to the seashore
and listen to the waves caress the sands
while dreaming that an ancient ship
will sail by and pick him up
and take him back at the very least
to the memory of his home far away

. . . . .
Robert Stern has been writing poems and aphorisms for over 50 years. He has been published in the Antigonish Review, Blue Unicorn, Konglomerati Press, Massachusetts Review, Poets Gallery, and others. The poem about the Trojan horse was written only a few months ago. To write inspired poetry is to be touched by the marvelous.

. . . . .
*Copyright 2017 by Robert Stern. Broadside illustrated by Mat Hudson.

Wrong a lot*

October 30, 2016

Wrong a lot by Timothy Pilgrim
2016 Walk Award
By Timothy Pilgrim

Lake’s plenty deep, dive off the cliff.
She’s crazy about me. Those jeans
will fit. I’ll be there for her

if the going gets tough. No chance
it will rain, I know when to shut up.
I don’t need directions,

they adore me at work. I’ve studied
enough, no doubt I’ll be rich.
We have plenty of gas,

she doesn’t like gifts. Our love
will survive. We don’t need cash,
I’m sober, can drive. It’s just fine

to speed. I will never get caught.
I know she’ll call, she wouldn’t leave.
I won’t miss her at all.

. . . . .
*Copyright 2016 by Timothy Pilgrim. Broadside illustrated by Mat Hudson.

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