Monday, February 19, 2018

Monday, September 4, 2017

Saturday, February 11, 2017


Love, lift me up out of these blues
Won’t you tell me something true
I believe in you

The day their sky exploded
the radio wasn’t on
she was playing a home-made cassette
a friend had mailed to her.
Elevation was on top volume
she was singing top volume
and driving full speed
down a country road.

A sky blue Tuesday
one of those autumns
that carried no pricetag
in the middle of a January white-out.
The version of Elevation
was not official
one she had never heard
lots of flute and that made her happy.

When she arrived at her client’s door
one she had never met before
she was greeted with
It’s a disaster
Laughing, she indicated she’d seen
a lot of homes in a state of disaster.
The woman looked at her strangely;
No, A plane just hit the twin towers

It’s funny what you remember
when the world changes forever -
It’s funny what you remember.

- Debbie Calverley

Saturday, December 10, 2016

LP - Pride in the Name of Love - wow what a voice

Saturday, December 3, 2016

Barefoot Abandon - Mona T. Lyndon-Rochelle

       To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the
       greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves.
                       —FEDERICO GARCÍA LORCA

Last night we were free     the moon     you     me.
Our lips of spiced cinnabar burned through the dark
and in barefoot abandon we dove into the sea. 

You     an azurite combustion     me     the Rose of Tralee.
We swam clear coastal waters with a great white shark.
Last night we were free     the moon     you     me. 

An offshore breeze seduced us so innocently.
We shed shift and shirt and ran to the seamark
in barefoot abandon we dove into the sea 

and rose so breathless I would not foresee
so fickle a kiss. Why leave me in the dark?
Last night we were free     the moon     you     me 

for my heart and love were eternal you see.
You singed my lips     burned your watermark
when in barefoot abandon we dove into the sea. 

You haunt my dreams with wild anxiety
I yearn for the years I lost you     my Irish anarch.
Last night we were free     the moon     you     me.
Barefoot     abandoned     I dove into the sea. 

The Southern Review 
Autumn 2016