The online literary journal of Greenfield Community College

Poetry
Chimes

Dad by Wind Chimes by Dad

Like—who?—a Zennist Who is lit up by a chunk of the mundane— Shinkichi Takahashi eternally burning seeing the baby’s Turd afloat in the communal bath— I’m walking past the greyhounds’ owners’ house When a tinkling chord from their portico Boards me. I am the most stupid For one finger snap, asking why is dad on...
Dizzy

Hide and Seek

In those days change was law. After the day’s lawn faced the sky blue speech, Or its parade of clouds rolling like floats east, It looked up at one or two stars, Bordered by the two darkening maples and one big willow. The lawn had no eyes, but the dizzy Boy and girl, lying at...
Disney - A Ride On The TTA at Night (Explored)

Radioactive Girlfriend

Red hot isotope spit’n mama Baby you glow in the dark Entropic activity stirs a switch Half-life flesh ignites subliminal twitch Synaptic hormonal chain reaction Turgid particle accelerator raised for action Burning fire of unquenchable quantum desire Control rod guided deeper averts subatomic meltdown Your fission-fueled libido could light cities Radioisotope fire that burns so...
Phidippus mystaceus

White Queen

  If you make Your decision How am I to argue? A Mite with no knees. But I beg a plea That will go heard or unheard. The Moon gleams White And has no record for Keeping score But crosses in Her timely fashion As the Spider whirls its thread For foster flies to wed....
Scream

Still Life

  The mother of all storms is upon us. We are taken aback, our skirts blow up. We show our panties, bad girls all of us, march off to school with our lunch boxes open. Do you want my apple? Do you want my pear? See all the fruit for the taking, piled high in...
Day 122

Ode to the Crumb

  Speck of cheese, dot of bread, slivered hint of once pie. They stir up our hunger, send a flare down desire’s dark hole, invite us to rise up again from here. A crumb of bird humming contends, hungry, with the bee. Green-back glow and the long beak sneaks into flowers with smooth insertion until...
stavropoleos

Always, The Old House

  My grandmother shows me my first yellow rose, pale – called Moonlight Glow – which she tends by the stone wall beyond the old, old house. I shut tight my eyes to see us both in the afternoon light. There’s a tale of Bereft in that house which doesn’t yet speak of Grandpa naked...
...and it was still hot. [Explored!]

The Cold Miles

  He is reaching around her – claw foot tub, oceanography. I could say islands, but instead – weigh stations, always this or that, always weather. She is wondering what it might be like to take a class at the University, what might have been the ending to the movie she fell asleep to the...
KurdisTan Full HDR کورد

Geographical Tongue

  When I was young, my friend said, I have a geographical tongue – and opened wide to let me examine a map cracked deep into pink sponge, roads laid out in the whale-belly of her mouth. At the same time, my fingers would go numb, turn white. I rubbed them like I was referring...
Girl runs up San Francisco's 16th Avenue Tiled Steps

They Are Breaking the House

shredding the barn, lining up tiny red blue green toy soldiers for sale. The grasses have dried to flame , the stairs are dust and customers roam all the rooms picking up, putting down books and cups, silks and soft eider pillows. Even the mountain beyond the wide back porch is up for sale next...
GreenAntFrame

Suspension

    Stormy night: a pallid ant clings to slick fibers of a wind-flayed string. Too dumb to hope, too keen to despair, it pauses mid-string to interrogate the air with antennae restless with autonomy that try to amplify the ant’s economy of movement with electric filigree of panic, rage, anything to shear the monotony...
Leaping Laelaps (or Irish Girls)

The Seam

  Wind, a branch broken glass, but still cloud on the horizon where a line of people walk bent thick & thin, walk from what they left, but there is no where- they-are-going-to. One foot presses down, hurts or slips, weighs more than can be lifted. Their feet! Cloaks damp, gloves torn. Their feet! Slowly,...