The Wind Storms Outside

by Bea Garth

copyright 2008

Your curtains billow

and gleam slightly of gold

as we talk of forests, seas and continents,

the gods having raised their fists

at each of us

and we, like two Odysseus’

finally meet to tell our tales

and laugh at the twists and turns

while we marvel at these gifts

we’ve wrest despite

the monsters’ traps

and treacherous seas.

We sing to each other

words wild as the wind

and just as quickly

images like trees, earthy and green,

while the beach lies pregnant

frothed by the ocean’s hiss.

We don’t notice the time

‘til the sun

silhouettes our bodies

in the morning’s golden rays

as we shake hands

and go our separate ways.

Note: this is a poem which will be appearing in "Eating The Peach"--my new book of poems and drawings to be published early this Fall.

The Itch

by Bea Garth
copyright 1982, 2008
pen and ink drawingThis drawing will soon appear in Eating The Peach, a book of poems and drawings of mine about love and illusion. This particular drawing was from when I lived in Seattle in 1982 and "gave up art" and started doodling--which started me on the (artistic) path I am still on with ceramic sculpture as well as drawing and now painting.
-----Bea Garth

SPEAK THAT’S WHAT HAPPENED

by Greg Hall

copyright 2008

Morning arrived without an invitation
It was just that evening was so beautiful
The sunrise started following it around
I don’t know where your luminous paleness ends
And the black heart of midnight begins
The borders are opaque
Even in the black some light gets in
The blood finds its way
Just like a new-born river
Goes where it must to continue to flow
Otherwise it must become a lake
Breathing in motionless splendor
Guard of light and a passive victim of the moon
But we
Are
about
Rivers
Inexplicably encountering each other
Crowded with rubies among the white stones
We broke all the laws
Standing in the kitchen
Under very bright lights the curve of your back
Your breasts high in a plum tree
And the nipples fiery and tender
Eclipsing the rare gems the night had buried
Inside my body and my dreams
I woke up and knew your milk arrayed
Upon a landscape of white gold
Drowned in an air that could only be the daughter of the ocean
And we love each other
The way the night follows the morning
Enthralled and justified
Because the black stone from the endless vastness of night
Must warm and glow and be consumed in fire to reach the earth
And the pure air surrounding us while we embrace
Contains the light and heat of the meteor fallen
Sacrifice from the heart of night
That we might fly
In our quick night
And rest in an exhausted paradise
Mementos of this impossible journey
Strung along your belly
Like dew
From
heaven
Forever.

Tracy 2

by Elizabeth Parashis
copyright 2008
acrylic on paper
Note: click on picture for a larger image

power plant

by janet crawford trenchard
copyright 2008   

driving along in the dark
earth and sea to either side
expecting to be surprised as always
by silvery stilts
rising out of the mist, Atlantis
spreading its net oflights
I wonder
if I missed it somehow
then  suddenly  crane my neck
to see it standing there
on stiff spiderlegs, unlit
a driveby tour of a dead fairyland
some woeful message
spelled out in enormous runes
indecipherable, reaching out to us
from oblivion