© 2004-2006 by Hollie Stewart
In 1938, the windows
of her house of water and stone
resisted the extreme
horror of that night
of broken crystals.
(Marjorie Agosín)
If the light is the soul
then soul is what's
all around me.
(Pierre Joris)
& the fire has a life of its own.
(Andrew Zawacki)
An iron bridge trembles
and a loose plank rattles
but doesn't give way.
(Elizabeth Bishop)
Through binoculars the spiral nebula was
a smudged white thumbprint on the night sky.
(Minnie Bruce Pratt)
Arbolé, arbolé,
seco y verdí.
(Federico García Lorca)
"For by the Ascent of Luhith
they will go up with weeping."
(Isaiah 15:5)
Luhith existed on a height;
it was an unidentified path in Moab
which lead to a sanctuary on a hill.
it was a place of hiding from destruction.
it could have been a mountain itself.
may this be a high place
where one can hide away in great forms
of creative expression.
about the editor:
Hollie Stewart is a recent MA graduate in creative writing. she spent a year on staff on The Northridge Review, one semester as editor in chief. she enjoys working in poetry, prose and photography.
|a magazine of poetry, prose, and photography|
