Territory of Men

by Jami Macarty

The café customer mutters a body part and a man’s name

Plastic lids startle

the floor’s scuffed wood

A man comes in

A man goes out

A window captures

the one looking in (More …)

As a Sentence Leaves Its Breath

by Brenda Hillman

—on a mountain top   in summer

wood splitting    on a finished tree,   —

ridges     of the swirls     in    a mirrorless day,

tall ants nearby—,     twin sides of alive:  so pattern recalls

how to cling    volute,    contingent, (More …)