It's just poetry, it won't bite

Contributor Series 4: Aspects of the Elephant, Words on a Wire

02.18.10 Posted in Contributor Series 4, today's words by

Contributor Series 4: Aspects of the Elephant Words on a Wire By Tim VanSant We are words on a wire– substance [of a sort] –but no body. So how can our hearts touch? And yet how could they not? Tim VanSant’s poem Reach appeared at vox poetica in 2010.


Contributor Series 4: Aspects of the Elephant, Now that I know

02.17.10 Posted in Contributor Series 4, today's words by

Contributor Series 4: Aspects of the Elephant Now that I know By Karen Schindler it’s hard to get what you want til you know what it is now that I know what I have always desired I can see myself shifting toward getting it funny how that happens                                                 Always look at me like you […]


Contributor Series 4: Aspects of the Elephant, My Companion Piece

02.16.10 Posted in Contributor Series 4, today's words by

Contributor Series 4: Aspects of the Elephant My Companion Piece By Bryan Borland At the funeral they called him my companion, which made him sound less like my husband than my pet, my friend with the furry belly I instinctively rub. These two weeks he’s been the guide dog to my blindness. I’d have run […]


Contributor Series 4: Aspects of the Elephant, Our Volition Was in Not Turning

02.15.10 Posted in Contributor Series 4, today's words by

Contributor Series 4: Aspects of the Elephant Our Volition Was in Not Turning By Ray Sharp Scraps of paper lifted on a careless wind, these are my verses tonight. You came to me so– the familiar face on the peeling wheatpaste poster blown across the square, come alive at my feet, deft motion of fate’s […]


Contributor Series 4: Aspects of the Elephant, Hearts

02.14.10 Posted in Contributor Series 4, today's words by

Contributor Series 4: Aspects of the Elephant Hearts By Mariah Boone The heart-shaped leaves are from no tree I can see Dark and dry They come on some wet wind to crumble in our yard No colors on South Texas leaves They have no flaming hospice, only Green, brown, dust My stepfather, when he was […]


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