The Literary Magazine of the Osterhout Free Library
Pyramid Paperweight
a thing poem for my younger self
Jacob Butlett
On the paperwork the paperweight’s
Your brain in a desert of fire.
Those times you find yourself in tears:
You’re not funny, you’re not smart, Continue reading “Jacob Butlett, Two Poems”
Early Spring
Tom Montag
The wind has
let down the sky.
Small birds fly
into afternoon.
We are leaving
winter behind.
The birds know it.
We know it.
All the green things
have been told, though
not all of them
believe it yet. Continue reading “Tom Montag, Early Spring”
Sunset At Times Square
A Villanelle
Steven Concert
Reflecting in the setting sun,
mannequins in quiet repose
while bodies crash in unison.
So hurriedly the people run
to destinations no one knows.
Reflecting in the setting sun,
where elegance is mixed with fun,
white limousines in lengthy rows
while bodies crash in unison.
Where gridlock fights the engine’s gun,
the burning fuel assaults the nose.
Reflecting in the setting sun,
the city rhythms beat as one.
Broadway shines, its radiance grows
while bodies crash in unison. Continue reading “Steven Concert, Sunset at Times Square”
Liberation Army
Michelle Reale
Well, you know, it’s really been, you know, quite a trip for me.
—Patty Hearst
Everything pointed to survival. I was Patty Hearst with a loaded gun,
but really, more like meringue: all flourish with little substance.
The cinnamon I craved was dark as peat, still, I sprinkled it over everything.
My task was subjective. I tied the Gordian knot and focused on digestion.
The suppression of the lump in my throat was a collaborative effort.
My peripheral vision has failed me more than once, my words concise in a clutch. Continue reading “Michelle Reale, Liberation Army”
Pulling Towards Home
Devon Balwit
The east wind sends my poncho swooping
overhead,
startling the dog, already jittery from the rain-streaked
headlights
and the runners, who appear and recede as from another
dimension.
A phalanx of geese wheels above, considering Continue reading “Devon Balwit, Pulling Toward Home”
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