Theme 05: “Ghosts”
Three Poems
Poetry by L. Acadia
“I am alone, tonight / (or so I thought) / yet feel a shift / echo of—”
Three Poems
Poetry by Suellen Wedmore
“Sometimes even a town falls in upon itself, / but in spring, when the dead wander at night, / you may find its abandoned heart, toughened / by tears…”
Two Poems
Poetry by John Grey
“The night is a machine – / not of gears but of stars clicking into place. / From its end a woman rises – / broom between her knees, hair stiff as wire. / Guided by phantoms, / she floats between the stars.”
London Looter’s Week February ‘24
by Athena Melliar
“I saw ghosts…at the Erdem show,…and they saw me”
Bird of Paradise
Poetry by Christian Cacibauda
“The dead, with their elisions, / have told us all they’re going to, / as sure as she—with one distraught decision— / alighted on those foreign shores / that heave back only echoes—never swimmers.”
Three Poems
Poetry by Phillip McGough
“Snow swirled through the doorway / though the door had not opened. / He left no footprints. The wine remained half-drunk. / The children asked, / Was he real? / And the elders whispered, / Perhaps more real than us.”
RII, V.v. 31
Poetry by K.A. Keckler
“…you confess worries through lovely / lips and the tongue / I once held in my mouth like a / Samhain prayer.”
Three Poems
Poetry by Ron Riekki
“it was the witching hour, / midnight, / the hour of skulls, / noon for idiots, / the fog of warts, / thirteen o’clock, / Ang oras sang pagpang-witch / as they say in Hiligaynon, / La hora de las brujas / as they say in the language of el Día de los Muertos…”
Burnt Ghosts
Poetry by Brad Rose
“Burnt ghosts, carbon black, / what good are our tattoos, / no one can see them?”
Three Poems
Poetry by Craig Kirchner
“Torment doesn’t wait for tomorrow, / he shows up tonight on Rofie’s porch, / looking like Stevie Becker, / wearing Robert’s overcoat / and smelling like Jim Beam and Old Spice…”
The One You Called Samhain
Poetry by P D Lyons
“Crows, huddled in the grey fingers of that tree / watching, as if waiting, for something I didn’t have to give…”
The Stroller of Monmartre, Parts I and II
Poetry by Reed Venrick
“…Apparitions drifting through this Paris life, / Smoking too many cigarettes again.”