At the carrefours, signs and avenues Usher us to divergent destinations. We trace thoughts through clouds, Neuronal bridges tethering Roads. Branching out deltas Of serpentine labyrinth loops In the expanding metropolis. In toxic sub-zero dawn Traffic exhales Nauseous exhaust. Night shuts its wings And the sun, ethereal egg To the east, fries its way west Over easy, on this town awakening Like every other town in the world, Where this morning, we are reborn To ourselves, to our routines of work And family obligations, Huddled in our parkas, with our…
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“Go shut the door,” he told me, and I stopped a second, wondering exactly what he meant, if I’d been wrong to leave it propped open, if drafts were getting in, if “shut” meant something different, if he had asked before, if “door” could be a metaphor for our relationship, if we were past the point when shutting doors would help, if “door” derived from Anglo-Saxon or from French, if I was overthinking this, if he could shut the door himself, if I could wrench it off its hinges if…
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Genni Gunn is the author of twelve books, including three novels, three short fiction collections, two poetry collections, a collection…
“San Trovaso, Acqua Alta” by Doron Talmi was the grand prize winner of the 2021 Accenti “Capture an Italian Moment”…
In a moment in time, a seismic pandemic strikes like a bolt of lightning and non-essential travel is banned. We…
SAPLING Sunday mornings, Mom attends mass at St. Ambrose Church while Dad takes me to High Park where I play…
“Since the house is on fire, let us warm ourselves.” (Italian proverb) Monday, 9 a.m. Not writing. Dim, dreary…
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