Kage Brubaker is currently a third year at The Ohio State University studying English and Pre-Medicine. He is currently living in Columbus, reads for OSU’s literary magazine, ‘The Journal’ and is an active member of the University Arts Scholars where he helps plan and execute a variety of events centralized around the Arts. After […]
I want violet ghosts with subatomic magnetism like the inside of one perfect voicemail. I want to predict a patchwork of next week mark it off as a listing of future failures, my handwriting dripping from it in equal parts dysfunction and desiccation. I want to want less. I want to feel like I’m thinking […]
A concentric witness to the same gravity that kept seasons fed, she saw red in the autumn foliage, slick fall with seeds like a lei of Darjeeling. Time lost her of cloud and sky on water, flashed wet a half-translucent sun on a still river bed. She was this, delirium and memory, slender bone buttressed by […]
lies under the blue sky and its white cloud in the Pearl River estuary, dredged sand is piled alongside droning ships are busy, engaged inside the Venetian Macao a mirror world with man-made sky and cloud high above this patch of never rains, nor ever becomes cloudy hailing from Italy singing Gondoliers glide down the […]
Red Bird A red bird perched and sang a song of leaves and rain, summer storms of May: The driving rain, phantom bullets, a windmill turning in the night: Bird perched on the mill, signal in the night, solitary red: Within a May- storm of leaves and rain, the red bird caught and held my […]
I hear the click-clack worry of the Tic-Tacs shackled in their plastic container… an orange flurry of candy hurries into her hand. We’re parked, engine idle. It’s 1996 and we’re stationed at an ATM. My mother, waiting for an automated response, reaches back into the vehicle to the center console for a pack of safety-orange […]
the song, a garbled bag of birds the trees outside my window are golden today, i will drive the electrolux all over this place; taking up the extradited crumbs of children left in their hunger and haste in this emptiness i imagine what could be present what could be devised what could be devastated out […]
Time smoothes rainbow hardness Of tree basalt, vermillion jasper, Silvery granite and pale feldspar With the help of humdrum But patient jeweller of tides; Volcano-born, earthquake-quarried, Heat-cracked, wind-carved, Death shapes compact among the rocks; It drifts light as a fractured bone When the tide uncovers, It blinks among the smashed shells, Upset by gulls, bleached by salt and […]
John Casquarelli is the author of two full-length collections: On Equilibrium of Song (Overpass Books, 2011) and Lavender (Authorspress, 2014). He is the Chairperson of the Santa Fe chapter (The Santa Fe Poetry Trails) of the New Mexico State Poetry Society (NMSPS). He received his MFA in Creative Writing at Long Island University—Brooklyn. John was […]
The kids across the street had daily tasks, Leon’s to sweep the inside stairs, which often he forgot, and we’d sit on our porch, waiting for his mom, waiting for the air to fill with thuds and wails, and in the calm thereafter we’d speculate on marriage, the oddness of pairings – that sturdy fishwife’s […]
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