ISSN 1551-8086
return to home search for a contributing writer

seach for poems by title

archive of previous issues submissions information mailing list online store links to other interesting sites contact us  
  May 2006
volume 4 number 2
-table of contents-
  home   (archived)
  contributing poets
  Maureen Alsop
  Michael Baker
  Jarvis Black
  Jack G. Bowman
  Graham Burchell
  Dana Campbell
  Jonathan Carr
  Holly Day
  Peggy Dobreer
  Francisco Dominguez
  Patricia J. Edwards
  Amélie Frank
  Ann L. Healey
  T.A. Jennings
  Gene Justice
  Scott C. Kaestner
  Sheema Kalbasi
  Deborah P Kolodji
  Marie Lecrivain
  Mary L. Mazzocco
  Terry McCarty
  Aire Celeste Norell
  Marie Rennard
  Lorraine Sautner
  Nancy Shiffrin
  A. Thiagarajan
  David Thornbrugh
  Kirby Wright
  mailing list
Maureen Alsop
May 2006



    "My poems have appeared or are pending in various publications including Words and Images, Salzburg Review, Visions International, Poetry Motel, Taproot, Zillah, Paterson Literary Review (honorable mention Allen Ginsberg Poetry Award), among other publications. I recently completed a PhD in psychology and am currently enrolled in Vermont College's MFA writing program. I coordinate a Palm Springs Poetry Workshop series featuring various visiting poets as a resource to increase dialog regarding poetic craft for the local community."



Agincourt Sundown

God’s too big to bicker with over my runny
hose, shred skirt, and scanty girth—as if I’m
reprieved. God taught my greed
good last time. My golden rosary snapped
like sugar peas & flung
across clapboard floors. Nobody
can follow nobody
down. If we could each shine
but one song, HIS would stagger
woolen-eyed through patchy gardens
snatching beloveds
into a limpid bouquet…

Sky-lite Chapel’s magpie keeps twitting
at my window. ON MY FATHER’S SOUL,
HE KNOWS ME, that lavender bird stretches his shadow
over my tea like smoke: his O-ring gaze… snakes me
as if he spies MY HEART
clad in a seersucker suit tipping
mango martinis. Paradise
ain’t nothing’ but a lonely soul's shipwreck he used to say,
as if he’d been there…

when my man gave-‘way, I heard soiled blow flies buzzin’
in his lungs— like a wheezy accordion. Preacher told me
to lift my prayers
toward heaven but my ears
to the rise & lapse of his lovely chest.

          My rapture = his breath
air… a distant cord

like the last angel scrambling
over a scattered halo.

copyright 2005 Maureen Alsop