Philomene Long – There Are Never Enough Ravens in a Poem
Philomene Long – Love, You Are Green and Dark
John Thomas – You Bring Me Apple Trees, Flowering Apple Trees
Roger Houston – Adullam
Hillary Kaye – Perhaps Now
Mary Getlein – To My Unknown Friend
Rus McCoy – God Took a Photograph
Bruce Meade – Surfing the Breakwater

(For Pegarty)

The moon
If it could
Would be a
Many stars
Strive to be Ravens
Lightning is the slow
Most Ravens have been seduced
By the blind
The Mother of us all is
The uncarved Raven
I write, always
With a Raven’s quill
Between my fingers
There are never enough
Ravens in a poem
– Philomene Long


You are green and dark
The field I walked as a child
Slowly, slowly the snow
My favorite word was
Far, far
And the stars
How I had to close my eyes
Before they came too close
And the snow
You are
Like snow
And far
Love, love
In our solitude
Even the sun will abandon us
Put off the naming of things
We’ll do it together
– Philomene Long


you bring me apple trees, flowering apple trees
all the lost best poems of Sappho
new life at the core of the flame
happy deaths in a sea of milk
my pockets are a poet’s pockets
that is to say, nearly empty
please accept what I bring you tonight:
a cold quart of Coors
(one dollar twenty-two cents)
this limping, feeble poem
my whole heart
– John Thomas

03:44 Wednesday, July 30th, 2014, Adullam ….. I have a Beachhead. Tacked up on
my wall. September of 0’Seven. I recall. My own dear mate had passed. End of
July. Then to learn of another casualty. A tough job. Being a poet. Wear and
tear. Sometimes to feel that there’s nobody there. Beneath the full moon.
Windward. August came. Learned of your passing. Dear Saint Philomene. Was
sleeping in my van. The beach was near. Recall the homeless ghosts. The
sidewalks share. Did you pay visitation? Come to see? With John and Stuart, come
to call on me? As I was parked on Windward? As the fall Was waiting in the
wings? And would you tell? ….. Roger Houston, post-beat romantic

Perhaps Now
By Hillary Kaye
My life dances around me
turning circles, performing feats
of Magic.
Star dust
some of us already star dust
covering the earth
with so much love denied
so much lost opportunity
perhaps it was only to know you
and you
perhaps to share
some burning inspiration
some light into the darkness
perhaps to kiss just this one shoulder
to move one being
to appreciate this formation of clouds
to know God as fire
to know peace as movement
to surrender
one last time to hope.

To My Unknown Friend

I was walking across the 99 ¢ parking lot
in Mar Vista, when some guy shouts out:
“You’re the Best Poet in Venice!” and I
look up, & he’s looking right at me
Oh Thanks! I say,
totally bewildered and looking around for
other Venice poets he might be addressing
instead of me –
but no it was me –
I was so surprised and happy
I felt like saying
Thanks man, because I was thinking of
hanging it up –
you know, days pile up, hot and sweaty
and no poems come to mind
no inspiration or subject matter –
except two more of my friends have died
so . . .
it made the morning a special one
then he said: They feed my spirit –
your poems feed my spirit
and that was really cool –
’cause if I can feed your spirit
I figure my job is done.
so keep on telling poets they’re good –
’cause it keeps you wanting to write poems
that feed your spirit
Thanks, Israel! (his name)

– Mary Getlein

God Took a Photograph

In August 1945, God took a photograph
And when He did, it made a flash
That lit the Asian sky
80,000 people posed when God took His photograph
They never had the time to smile
No time to say goodbye

How do you find words to define
When something so horribly divine has happened
That caused the world to change?
The Pacific war was raging on
80,000 people gone
At first, they were not missed, isn’t that strange?

But God wasn’t satisfied when the picture was developed
He decided to take another
And this time get it right
Again, He chose the “Rising Sun”, He took three days to focus
Another flash that scorched the earth
What is such a picture worth?

And when news had spread, the world stood still
America imposed its will
And, one by one, the soldiers did disarm
Was this in God’s master plan
And did it have to be Japan?
Must the cost of peace be paid with so much harm?

I wonder what God did with them, His pretty little photographs
Does He keep them in a scrapbook
Or are they framed above His throne?
Does He pull them from His wallet to show to all the angels
Or does He look at them and shed a tear
At night when He’s alone?

Words and music by Rus McCoy © 2001
From the musical “MANZANAR: Story of an American Family”
By Rus McCoy and Dan Taguchi

Commemorating Hiroshima Day, August 6

Surfing the Breakwater

head high Furrow
of Ancient Comet Ice
Leaps Broken Bootlegged dreams
Neon mermaid takes off
Behind the Peak
Dolphins carve
the inside section

Learners Laughter
Symphonies the shore break
while outside
A half blind con man
is sucked into


By a hollow hissing arc
A blue altar
A blank canvas
A wave

– B. Meade


Categories: Poetry