Miramar 2 is out Miramar is a journal of print only of poetry and commentary old school truth and beauty Editor — Christopher Buckley For more information on obtaining your very own copy – go to this website miramarmagazine.org here are a few poems from this edition of Miramar James Hawley 1962 Not on the edge of senility but somewhere in the distant middle my eleventh grade math teacher stands on the top of his desk trying to look like the B-17 he flew in the big war his arms outstretched the flak splattering all around him as spellbound we count the bombs he drops over Germany Phil Taggart reads his poem, Another Birthday, on youtube youtube/watch?v=5jYAyCy7LwA Dixie Salazar Exhuming Neruda “Leave me in the midst of my own moon, in my wounded terrain.” Maybe if you just know one thing it’s enough pick one thing like a seahorse or leaf to study, to sing for the rest of your life— examine its history eons ago with the first uncoiling-- the first whisper and all it carried-- a swirl of leaves sailing on forever into mist and music boats that never dock that sag in the river the moon plows through then rocks on the shore of your heart while the stars stumble and fall down the broken stairs of eternity. Black crepe crackles in the fire of blossoms and drunken trees sing off key and gallop into the ruins. Even the gutters run with green ink fish scales chime on the wind then sway into silence one by one let the shovels clang hit hard pan and permafrost all they’ll find are blackened salt, fish bones, a needle with broken thread, and the charred strings of a gutted guitar music cannot be exhumed-- Everything carries you to us.
Posted on: Mon, 25 Aug 2014 17:32:08 +0000
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