Patricia DeVilliers, My Mother (and Alzheimer’s)

By Writers Garret | April 25, 2019

Eyes shining, she chose to emergeFrom boundaries that confineSo she could stretch her wingsGive music to the muted criesSounding aloud to the horizonShe chose to reveal her joyTo escape the sorrowsTo be present in the exquisite little momentsShe was admired, was able to renderThe details significantA shift in paradigmFrom shadow to lightAnd then, the terror,Repeating,…

Alexandra Corinth, Intrigue

By Writers Garret | April 25, 2019

Alexandra, Princess of Greece and Denmark,the last queen of Yugoslavia, never set foot in her adopted country,bound to the exile she had known since birth. Her legitimacy was muted aloud like a shift of sound to terror,one more distant monarch admired as shining figurelike sunrise over a brook, babbling and haunted. Alexandra was familiar with…

Dan Collins, A Quantum Experiment Suggests

By Writers Garret | April 25, 2019

-1. Obscure conceit: This spillage of being is a sticky lie of the womb, a crush to confine making everything corporeal escape into light. I don’t care to be the organ of that message anymore, muted by the stretch and fettle of biology.I’d be happy just to mystify the causal observer now and then. But let’s…

Eve Castle, The After Death

By Writers Garret | April 25, 2019

The After Death His escape from life was merely a shift in his seat. A shadow he didn’t have time to turn toward. The terror of his death was all mine. War is ugly. I won’t spare you the harsh details of his fettle. A steam hose was used to remove him from his turret.…

Bonnie Jamison Blackman, Shining Field

By Writers Garret | April 25, 2019

Shining field, present brook, do not abandon me.Obscure terror lurks in my present, But I am bound by this organ that does mystify me.I cannot escape. What is the source, bound in its gorge, That will carve away the sustaining figure from my shadow?Its details render a muted crush, a scoring shift.I may not escape.…

Sandra Martin Benton, Who I Am

By Writers Garret | April 25, 2019

When I look at myself in the mirror, to myself I say I am proudBut it doesn’t seem true, when I utter these same words aloud Overworking myself daily, which causes me to be tiredNot understanding when others say, that it’s me who is admired Sitting by the peaceful brook, not making a soundI’m in…

James Bascom, Waking Mid Night on a Backcountry Pass in Big Bend

By Writers Garret | April 25, 2019

The moon up and sky clear lay the nightscapeIn arrangements of frost hardeningThe cast of light, sharpening the loom of shadow.What relief can emergeFrom this dry brook’s carve Scoring its deeper dark like a gorge bound acrossThe stretch of the landscape’s lonely frieze,What something shift to escape the shadow castOf the moon’s muted shining,Or silhouette…

Lorlee Bartos, A Drive Across the Taos Bridge

By Writers Garret | April 25, 2019

Would she emerge from this experience intactOr would it reveal details in her soulThat would render her unable to stretchBeyond whatever was feeding her terror It would mystify her to see those in such fine fettleThey could bound to the center of the  bridgeAtop the Gorge and fearlessly peer down At the source of the…

Margaret Allyson, As if to Laertes

By Writers Garret | April 25, 2019

Burnish the already-shining curve, fettle the edges again.Pull your stitches tighter and let no errant thread escape.Carve carefully, allowing the shape to emerge,   then render details, sustaining shadow, figure, and field.Confine your flourishes, abandon witty tricks.Reveal — do not obscure for cheap effect.Crush the impulse to stretch a metaphor.No scoring points for cleverness.What can be…

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