We built a trail, on a thin path covered in dry sappy pine needles. Then, tied rope around the end of each handlebar, and rode our way through wooded red dust lanes. Metal horses neigh with every jump, as rubber tires hit parchedpinecones. Shattering at every heaving heavy, deep-breathing. Push! Chains pop, toes point, thighsContinue reading “Pine Jumps”
Tag Archives: Poet
metastasis
Rachel M. Croce puberty– the transformative awkwardness of self-annihilation loose skin bursts, pimples posture always with embarrassmentvoices arch toward otherworldlinesstones crack open, the evolutionthis is the summer of nipple buds and curiositylingering infidelity braves tolerance expanding thighs and breaking hearts– that hidden corner of the woods where adolescence weeds itself through incomprehensibilitythis isn’t teamwork,this is a kindContinue reading “metastasis”
WAKE
WAKERachel M. Croce Bernard is not the name of a man, but a place where winter eyes cast shore to shore and land kissed upon seagrass-laden rocky salt-marshand feast upon simplicity where loneliness mates with dreary coastline I wed myself to mean unsailed sailor bent upon cracked compassarrows dance between glass and brass loose bootstraps lift weighty limbsin searchto hideContinue reading “WAKE”
Drip on Me
These branches breathe a heavy sigh“Dripping,” as he put itThey drip the curlingCrack the coughing at each sorrowful Stone-cold inGoodnight skyUnknowing friend keep meCompany keep me Here is where home is builtA fire glowing Growing Going Flames dance to be unseen Just before you stack With sturdy dirty fingersStack the dryness of dead branch treeDryContinue reading “Drip on Me”
The Word Mill 