I have a hand full of marbles

...like so many beautiful moments
their own stories horrible with grandeur
I remember being exhausted, smoking,
looking for a house at night with a pool
and a girl I have never loved
absurd and strange the night was, full of stars
my friends and I walked for miles to find that house
through fields and fields of fireflies
melting into the sky and shadowing the moon
the luscious landscape
I wish I could show you,
the girl did not want to come with us so,
we went back to the abandoned building where
we made graffiti and slept on the cold floor,
in the morning going to school by hitch hiking,,,
if we did not get a lift
we would have spent the day with the captured baby lion
which had been moaning and growling all night
we did not sleep that well
and got out of there unharmed and alive…
-Ian Henderson

Walk

I walk at peace
with these living patterns
guided by silence
and this walking stick
I reach up
rasp saffron from the sun
and sprinkle it on this path
so the LNG will stay away
and I can still find tomorrow
-Michael Poitras

The Finished Poem

Each opening of the cabinet
they face me again,
last year’s investments,
honey in my shaped jars

I can’t bear to open
or melt them again;
just heft them and fondle
their confined curves

I marvel at crystals
sweet flakes of insight
forgetting they ever
ran fluid in flowers

no need to open,
no melting it down
merely speak their names
to re-enact the afternoons,
the muzzed hour of the bee,
the mother-hungry blooming
-Kaimana Wolff

The Meaning of Kitchen

Until the spatula
couples with a ladle
   until yeast raises the lids
and recent history
bubbles on a back burner,
   until the long spills
   of appleskin and birdshell
   conspire in a compost bucket
I am not really here yet,
   not caught up with my skin
-Kaimana Wolff