Injury Room
Katie Ford

Through my 
little window, I
see one day
the entire bird,
the next just
a leeward wing,
the next 
only a painful
call, which, without 
the body, makes
beautiful attachments
by even
attaching at
all.

Katie Ford is a professor of creative writing 
at the University of California, Riverside. 

The Blue Booth by the Library

The library among the city's ghosts--
the roaming homeless--stands as Minerva,
with open arms whispers:
come in, seek, find.

and yes, the ghosts go inside, not to read but
to do something else and leave. today, I see a woman

in the small, blue booth at the end of a walk way;
slump down on the wooden bench, her head hung;
the dark waves rise high and fall; and repeats;
her gaunt body shudders, like a little leaf in the 
cold rain. she remains there a long while;
and brusquely walk away;
where? just like the others before her?
one only wishes them the best;
yet knowing whish alone would be vain; still wish
they would grasp the love the mother giving birth;
open the eyes wide and go, and go well. 

©Byung A. Fallgren



 

There is no Life or Death
Mindy Loy

There is no Life or Death,
Only activity
And in the absolute
Is no declivity.
There is no Love and Lust
Only propensity 
Who would possess
Is a nonentity.
There is no First or Last
Only equality
And who would rule
Joins the majority.
There is no Space or Time
Only intensity,
And tame things
Have no immensity.

Mina Loy, born in London on 12-27-1882, was
a writer and visual artist. She died 9-25-1966. 

Baseline
Caleb Femi
    after "The first Time you hold a gun"

My mother's heartbeat
the first time I heard a baseline.
Then
Her womb, the first room I danced in.
How did it go again?
Kick cloud-soft twirl
stretch
dark gulf
neon on my clay brain.
Kick...Then
the melody drops
& her vocal comes in.

 [VERSE 1]

There will be strife,
burn days, a God
beside me
sex & crueler colors
than the abyss
but there will be this.

(Caleb Femmi is the author of Poor (Penguin, 2020),
 winner of the 2021 Forward Prize for Best First Collection.
He lives in London.)

Pains

Smart one attracts more of pain,
grandpa used to say, as life 
tricks on you, mean as a wicked wizard
dancing in your way.

The shadows take you for granted,
rape the head, plunge you
into the icy lake;
your mere defense words drift Noland;

they would say you are insane. you shudder
at your weakness, to sun the truth. But the
owl knows; karma nods near you.

You just plod through the prickly field;
fire stream; one after another, as the demon
throws at you; as if a Buddhist monk 
in the path of discipline.
glancing at the karma glancing at you;
you can smile. 

©Byung A. Fallgren