Kathleen Naureckas
Sometimes I dream about the dead.
Last night I saw a college friend,
someone I hadn’t seen in years.
I thought you were dead, I said …
Samantha Younis
In the pale blue light I saw you
after so many years had crawled by us
Creative Exchange 2011
Memories of Highland Park
Charlotte DiGregorio
We walk by night
along the hollow avenue
past the old store.
We peer through its windows,
hearing shadows of persistent poets.
Rachel Orzoff
The coffee is weak at Kips.
It has to be after sitting on the warmer plates for hours.
The pots are never empty, except at night after their swirling
with salt and a wedge of lemon.
Stains removed. Evidence gone.
Not really coffee anyway.
Nancy Rodkin Rotering
The musty smell of adventures soon
To reach my mind this afternoon
I pull the book up off the shelf
Inspiring my future self.
Apple Rhodes
It was the summer of 1985 or possibly ’86 … long enough ago, that the memory is fuzzy.
Jacqueline Nicole Harris
As the writhing pink worm dangled from the robin’s beak, I realized that even the rain serves a purpose.
Aiden Weber
Sea glass his
fabric, sunlight his sea,
nature his maker,
my feeder his tree.