The Literary Magazine of the Osterhout Free Library
Night Ride, NYC
Steve Klepetar
I was seven or eight, riding at night in someone’s car
over a bridge strung with lights,
the Whitestone or Throgs Neck, and we seemed
to be standing still
as the bridge slid past, pillar after pillar,
until my eyes blurred. My identity seemed to slip away
and I repeated my name to myself, silently, over
and over, until those words
meant nothing. Night loomed above, and lights Continue reading “Steve Klepetar, Winter 2017”
Ark Drives Into the Night
Jerry Wemple
A big rig is coming up fast. Its lights
go from far to closer to close. Barely
keeping it between the white lines, Ark welcomes
distraction. One hundred miles—maybe less—but
one hundred is a good number and when
more turns out to be less, then less is better,
a boost. State line sign, then gone. The big rig
that was riding his donkey faded off on
the hill climb. Lights in the distance: York.
Then Camp Hill. Might go East Shore all the way
in daylight, but too many hills and curves, woods, Continue reading “Jerry Wemple, Winter 2017”
Join us for our second celebration since the re-launch of Word Fountain this summer. It all takes place on Thursday, January 5th, the first Thursday of the New Year, at the Osterhout Free Library, 71 South Franklin Street in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania at 6:30 pm. Meet us in the Reading Room for light refreshments and Word Fountain’s first print copies of 2017. Continue reading “Winter Release Announcement”
Final Cruise
Craig Steele
Can ye fathom the ocean, dark and deep,
where the mighty waves and the grandeur sweep?
― Fanny Crosby
When my days become an afterglow, and I a memory,
scatter my ashes upon those wind-teased waves
that raise the fiery, sunrise tides beyond the nearest
far horizon. I’ll be a shell returning to the sea,
cruising its antique surface where, below me, Continue reading “Craig Steele, Summer 2016”
My House
Micah Bauman
my house
is slowly leaving me
piece by piece
it departs
soon
I’ll have nowhere
to live
to sleep
my house is slowly leaving me
the wall left
It desired some time alone
the ceiling left
It reached an all-time low
the floor left
It couldn’t handle the pressure anymore
the door left
In search of greater opportunities
the roof left Continue reading “Micah Bauman, Summer 2016”
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