ISSN 1551-8086
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  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