Flying Island

L’Ancien by B. Childs-Helton I bring to bear whatever I can find – old potsherds, empty casings from some long-fought war in secret latitudes outside the official theater of sanctioned shadows on the ancient walls where the painted prey brought down perpetually is signed with a red hand long disappeared, magic sown with salt where the land is silent but the rocks are resonating underneath the insouciant sun that greens a disguise of grass and hides in the wheel of ghosts in some other sky. My voice is smoke because I have turned to sparks and incidental ashes like the rest, unable to remember what to say but singing anyway in borrowed light. Telepathy by B. Childs-Helton If I were reading someone’s mind right now (assuming that a mind is like a book, enough that its usual job is to sit unread), the leery owner might pretend real hard that whatever page I’m reading is either blank or trivial enough that n...

Today (July 2) would have been the 86th birthday anniversary of Richard Pflum, a longtime fixture in the Indianapolis poetry community. He died on March 15. Several friends and colleagues honored him by submitting poems. Dick, as close friends called him, was a founding member of the Writers' Center of Indiana (now Indiana Writers Center). He ran the semi-monthly Poetry Salon, a feedback group for poets, and emceed the monthly An Evening With the Muse, which featured a guest poet and an open mic. He loved to frequent open mics in the city, often garnering respect from spoken-word artists. His collections of poetry include  Richard Pflum: A Dream of Salt (Raintree Press), A Strange Juxtaposition of Parts (Writers' Center Press, Indianapolis), The Haunted Refrigerator and Other Poems (Pudding House Press), Listening With Others: Poems Under the Musical Influence (The Muse Rules), and Some Poems to Be Read Out Loud: New and Selected Poems (Chatter House Press). Besides poetry,...