What You Would Call A Loose Ghazal, I Regard As Another Small, But
Necessary, Step Toward Recovery
A poem by James R. Whitley
As sharks near, the herring school into an agitated
silvery cloud.
If grief strikes, spread among a group, it must be
easier to bear.
The emptied home has its concerns as well: now who
will fill
the ice trays, the deserted bed? And who needs so much
beer?
Daily, I find a fresh victim under every gaunt fable,
like poor
Goldilocks who I think was framed by that shifty baby
bear.
The crotchety miser in me wants to let nothing
go--not these
moldy bagels, this spare penny, that dream, this
coarse beard.
Finally, the lesson flits in, stays: given time, every
riven soul
can heal, no matter if stitched through with loss or
threadbare.
Fall 2006 Poetry:
READING HOPKINS IN PALOS VERDES
by Andrew Demcak
REFLECTIONS ON WRITING by Jann
Burner
THEY BUILT A WALL AROUND THE OCEAN
by Lily Bower
VISITING CAVE CREEK by Nicholas
Messenger
PUBLISHER'S NOTE and ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
by Benjamin Bucholz
THERE IT IS by Hannah Price
GEOMETRY AND A LETTER by Laura
McKee
SENEGALESE GROVE by Holly Day
AFRICA by Kathryn Wagner
DEFINITION OF A TREE by Christine
Hamm
AFTER MY NAME IS SPOKEN by Meridith
Gresher
SHAPES IN THE AIR by Carolyn
Syrgley-Moore
NEITHER FISSION NOR FUSION by Ed
Tato
CLEAVINGS by Hank Kalet
A PILGRIM'S PROGRESS by KC Wilder
WHAT YOU WOULD CALL A LOOSE GHAZAL, I
REGARD AS
ANOTHER SMALL, BUT NECESSARY, STEP TOWARD RECOVERY by James
R. Whitley
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