Gregory Luce

432 posts

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Three Poems by Danielle Badra

All the silenced, all the neglected, all the invisible This is not utopia. This is a borderland. This is south of the borderland. This is not...

Dancing Daughter of Daughters by Maryhelen Snyder

This morning we stand at the seawall, my dancing daughter and I. As I circle her with my arm and lean my head against her, I know...

Two Poems by Alexander Olesker

Cape Cod Peace rumbles in the distance like thunder then flashes in your window like lightening to hang heavy in the air like the damp so the boards...

Seeing by Holly Mason

I. “Koi,” in Japanese, is homophonic for the word “love.”   Koi fish can recognize the person that feeds them.   Circling your mother’s pond, they open their wide mouths to vanish the...

One Step Down by John Huey

Toward the New Year, that late December, we parked the car near the old Sealtest Plant just off Pennsylvania a block down from Washington Circle where, since...

Statue in the Shallows by Rebecca Leet

Odd. Just plain odd. No other word for it. It’s hard to see, against the backdrop of beech and brush at the edge of the river. Fisherfolk...

All You Remember by Rose Strode

Climb the stairs. Take the call. Stand by the old green chair. Don’t sit down. Hear your mother say It’s cancer. Don’t answer right away. Clamp down your fear before you...

Longitude by Ann Wrayburn

In August heat, the urge to be misplaced can find you standing on the sidewalk, disoriented, holding someone else’s photos by mistake. Trying to place that cottage,...

Refugee, 15 by Naomi Thiers

Fear is in your bread and you must choke it down. To think of home— the courtyard with its red filigreed rug, the peel-paint walls, how the breeze...

The Story of My Father by Holly Karapetkova

He spoke seven languages and was never allowed to leave the country. He’d gone to school in Paris, which made him an enemy of the...

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Two Poems by Joshua Walker

Glass Houses We hide behind glass—thin, trembling breath,shattered silence,each crack a raw wound,a secret bleeding light.Truth fractures us—yet in jagged breaks,strength flickers, trembling,not a mask,...

Two Poems by Bill Ratner

They Send Me to the City to Stay with My Auntie I hang my jacket in the hallwayher apartment is oldmade from shoestring potatoesit smells...

 IF FREEDOM DIES by Alan Abrams

IF FREEDOM DIES What’s next for us, if freedom dies–For those of us, they smear as woken—must we wear their yoke of lies? They seal their...
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