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Tag Archives: johnsonville press creative writing

Reflections Through a Broken Mirror ~ Danny Cassidy

Reflections Through a Broken Mirror ~ Danny Cassidy

That the body can conduct its choir

of heavy robes the concert of the mind

winter branches budding into praise

& the coda opens
its mouth
of longing—

in wait for the arms to drop.

A Friar’s Lantern ~ Matthew Kosinski

A Friar’s Lantern ~ Matthew Kosinski

My body is always doing
what it promises not to do –

TRAVELER ~ Danny Cassidy

TRAVELER ~ Danny Cassidy

The night seizures
with light—

though no thunder
marks the storm.

Of Certain Acrobatics ~ Matthew Kosinski

Of Certain Acrobatics ~ Matthew Kosinski

He came early in the backseat:
She still splayed like shock; like love;
like the chrysalis mid-metamorphic climax.

ALBA: EVE’S CONFESSION ~ Danny Cassidy

ALBA: EVE’S CONFESSION ~ Danny Cassidy

As when you wake, slowly
with tender simplicity:

a yawn, a stretch
of sinew and bone.

But it isn’t, so we aren’t ~ Matthew Kosinski

But it isn’t, so we aren’t ~ Matthew Kosinski

Drinking cold fruit juice out of tall, thin glasses – we bought them (the glasses) at the thrift store in Elizabeth – sweet mango flesh on her face and hands… Read more »

Haiku, Sort Of ~ Raj Venkata

Haiku, Sort Of ~ Raj Venkata

The sun is leaking! The lake is overflowing! Should we call someone?   Space curves different On each side of my glasses. Not what Einstein meant, though.   Why put… Read more »

The Man Shrouded in Snow ~ Danny Cassidy

The Man Shrouded in Snow ~ Danny Cassidy

For years you’ve been left there on the oak tree
by the fence. I’ve seen the flurry of squirrels
in spring cling at your feet, claw your bared
torso and climb the height of birds. Absurd

A River of Feeling ~ Matthew Koskinski

A River of Feeling ~ Matthew Koskinski

A River of Feeling

For Caridad Svich

You taught me to shake violently
when the moment is right

On Being Friends With Musicians ~ Danny Cassidy

On Being Friends With Musicians ~ Danny Cassidy

Again the embrace: a makeshift circle,
guitar wire scratch, the plucking of strings.
Earlier you asked me why I grow so
quiet with the music of friends.