She tries to draw her father,
a generic round face atop a stick body.
She does not remember how
It unlisted from our lexicon along
with ancestors’ harder drawls and ways:
Down the native swarming banks,
are moss covered super highways
The thing was, she wasn't really pretty.
How many movie stars, in the firmament
of Hollywood, that tinseled, technicolor world,
Have you ever
watched trees? The way
like sea anemones
by Patricia Lewis Speir Eerie shadows spread across the narrow, twisty river,
reflections, perhaps, of a Calusa Indian's spirit
lingering in the dense cypress and palmetto hammocks
readying his canoe of yellow pine
by John Davis Jr.
My hands are older today than I remember.
Overnight, they’ve seasoned into my grandfather’s:
one rigid blue vein ridging each index finger
like long-repaired irrigation lines running
by Deborah R. Majors
pushed by a semi’s draft,
float from heaven
by Phoebe Brown There is vibrant
sound here. Cicadas rattle
their wings together—warm