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Walking Through Fences James Walton Flying Island Books Son Songs Tug Dumbly Flying Island Books Autobiochemistry Tricia ...

Car Wreck on Foyer Avenue Morning shakes my Daddy’s hands. Mom calls him a son-of-a-bitch,                         a drunken ...

When the Time Comes When the time comes bury me in the graveyard of stillborn, of abandoned projects, begun with good inte...

last night in bangkok  that thousand mile stare of a soi cowboy girl tables away praying tonight she will find something ...

After Gustave Here is the horizon  Dark blue Followed by a faint line / stretch of  White And the imperceptible point betwe...

Narrative Sixteen  Lucy had that way of looking both beautiful and tough that let me know that I would not be any good for her. At leas...

Dreaming in Music I wake sometimes to a dream of music the notes play and laugh in the dark and just fo...

The education of stars in outer space (for the Dutch poet Joop Bersee) Encountering the words of an artist. Words the dreams...

Bluepepper would like to take this opportunity to wish all our readers and contributors a very Merry Christmas and a safe and p...

At Home Anytime she meets Someone in public, She’s quick to smile And assure them That everything is All right. Her eyes...

The Projector Upon the old film projector a few revolutions remain, moaning as it casts paltry images of black and white up...

In Reply To Autumn Autumn   I know what you’re telling me:   that there’s only listening   that if I close my eyes these col...

Surrey  Beneath It’s mauve tangerine evening  pained immortal against the blue  Cast from mother earth’s essential  Being – ...

two too neutral I like to imagine myself healthy and beautiful. Also, with a chihuahua. He raises his head from the carpet to...

Subtle Gardening Whipper snipper and spread soil; there’s a clumsy green thing needs putting away, falls down at the slightest. We ne...

an absence of Giotto in the damper sand a streamer of sea weed like an arrow at the bullseye spirals curled as it is by ...

Indigo First, there’s the liminal, bluish hued depth unwittingly inviting disputations concerning your very existence, such i...

While the rest of the world begins a week of solemn ceremonies and interminable platitudes to mark the 100th anniversary of the signing...

Home-grown Utopia Morning glory as our windows slant to take the sun. So I reflect, coming home from Kate’s at five, a ...

A Better Catch The seventy-year-old house has its charm, well, it doesn’t. It is the only house I know where I can find my s...