Providing grounds for the greening of human language.





The Road to Thunder Road by A.J. Huffman

Wednesday, July 23rd, 2014

is a delayed growl standing several steps behind the starring flash. Backup- singing, supportive round of applause. Darker partner waiting in invisible wings. Eruptive echo marks the distance to point of contact, countdown after-strike. _______________________________________________ Photo by the U.S. National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration via Wikimedia Commons, 2005. Follow the links for Huffman’s bio and […]

Hibiscus Blooming in Rain by A.J. Huffman

Tuesday, July 22nd, 2014

The garden sogs under persistent downpour. Green grows with a sickly gray clinging like shadows, cloud contamination. In a quiet corner, lone hibiscus stretches petals toward sky, embraces drops battering against brilliance. Resilient as the solar power color emulates, it remains open, a burst of warming reassurance that the sky cannot fall forever. _________________________________________________________ Photo […]

Autumn Moon by A.J. Huffman

Monday, July 21st, 2014

after “Age of Abundance,” by Osnat Tzadok Flares of imaginary fire burn across forest’s crown. Light and leaves come alive, collectively breathe in mirrored mist, rising like smoke from absent flame. My eyes begin to water in belief. This is the image of sulfured Hell. I pray for the salvation of sun- rise. ______________________________________________________ A.J. […]

Cherry Tomatoes by April Salzano

Thursday, July 17th, 2014

Cherry Tomatoes hang in clusters on delicate vines. The plants are caged, potted in the driveway. All summer they have drowned in rain and hose water until flowers became hard green cysts that grew, ripened and split wide open. I salvage what I can into folded shirt-basket though I know no one will eat them. […]

Root Ball by April Salzano

Wednesday, July 16th, 2014

Who gives away their weeping cherry tree, my husband wants to know. Mature, in bloom. He says it deserves a fighting chance. He will prepare the ground, dig the hole by hand, home burial or new beginning, we won’t know for months. Once the blossoms fall to the ground, pink petals could mean something other […]

Western PA by April Salzano

Monday, July 14th, 2014

I love the state I’m in, its mountains and cattle grazing under billboards beside highways, silos standing phallic in foliage, farmland and stretches of nothing along ribbons of winding roads. I count phone poles and fields as landmarks, see the ghosts of steel and loss of populous to warmer weather, cattailed lakes and plenty of […]

On Finding the Great Witley Church by Karen Kelsay

Friday, July 11th, 2014

We saw your massive golden dome from down below, a baroque body oddly out of place. I snapped your picture by the brown limbs hanging near the roadside fence, devout   old guards, one hundred years had left behind. We leaned across your speckled balustrades beside the river, where worn paths entwined and crisscrossed near […]

Hard Head Diver by Karen Kelsay

Thursday, July 10th, 2014

He keeps his diving helmet in a shed. The memories that it buoys up, aren’t dead— that heavy hat of bolts protects his pride. He seldom ever has to look inside the wooden crate beneath the old work bench, where all his man-things: chisel, hammer, wrench, as if in dry dock, wait to be reused. […]

Surprise Possession by Karen Kelsay

Tuesday, July 8th, 2014

She spends her afternoons beside the tree, where Mr. Lizard’s made his home. Last week she caught him in her mouth, and forcefully, my husband pried him out. She doesn’t seek this reptile, or a patterned, scaly prize— just itches for a thrilling chase. For days she’s turned into a sphinx. Unblinking eyes, and breath […]

Pillow Talk at 18 Years by Jonathon Penny

Friday, February 28th, 2014

Tell me, she whispered, when the kids were down And the dark of day had drifted over like a welcome shroud, What is your love?