Flying Island

Cave Painting by Terry Ofner The man-shape on the wall is red. The man is earthen red, like the dust all around. The man points an arrow upwind where the bison range. They graze the stony hill one wall over. The bison are brown— earthen brown, like the dust all around. The brown pigment is hungry for the wall. The red pigment is hungry for the kill. Desire everywhere. Bio: Terry Ofner has published poetry in World Order, 100 Words, Right Hand Pointing, Ghazal Page, Flying Island, San Pedro River Review, and forthcoming in I70 Review. He is an editor for an educational publishing company headquartered in Iowa, where he grew up—not far from the Mississippi River.

In the Poet’s House by Terry Ofner I saw wainscot of tin made to look like wood and I traced my finger on it and followed her up and heard notes as from a practice room somewhere above—fingers on white keys and black made to look like wood and the left hand put down a limping bass line and the right foot held the pedal and I felt the quiver and traced a finger along it and wondered—can I be like me? and the now answered with a mocking tin-like song: “Can I be like me?” then I saw her skirt disappear at a twist in the stairs—and the ghost of piano forte made a sound like metal and wood and I traced a finger to feel it and I saw her follow herself up into the music Bio: Terry Ofner has published poetry in World Order, 100 Words, Right Hand Pointing, Ghazal Page, Flying Island, San Pedro River Review, and forthcoming in I70 Review. Helives in Indianapolis and is an editor for an educational publishing company headquartered in ...

The Ladder by Terry Ofner I stand the ladder in the soft soil of the perennial bed, climb up like a thief of nests, and pull a perfect egg of twigs, leaves, and seeds from the mouth of the plugged downspout. I lean to the left to steady the ladder that lists slightly to the right under my weight. I feel like a child canceling differences between parents somewhere off the emotional balance sheet. I perch up there a minute after pulling the plug and watch the giddy water laugh down the aluminum passage to the side yard. It musters there with other waters, planning invasions of low places in the neighborhood. I leave the ladder in the bed—a creaky apparatus, no substitute for wings—but for certain jobs it does just fine. Irises at its feet speak in purple tongues, toasting each other for their part in releasing the long-stopped waters of spring. Bio: Terry Ofner grew up in Iowa not far from the Mississippi River. He ho...

Blue of the Blue by Terry Ofner Sky between branches of blooming Nanking cherry— After thirty-five years, the youth in my chest loses custody of the eyes. The blue of the blue dress she wore on the day we met. Bio: Terry Ofner grew up in Iowa not far from the Mississippi River. He holds degrees from the University of Iowa, where he attended the undergraduate Iowa Writer's Workshop in poetry. He is currently an editor for an educational publishing company. He has published poems in World Order, 100 Words, Eclectica, and Right Hand Pointing. His poem "Mama Carving" won first place in the Interboard Poetry Community Contest, January 2015 (Ned Balbo, judge). He is drawn to themes of nature and family and is working on his first collection of poems.

Winter Concert                                         for Johanna A youth in black stands at his rack of bells, rocking slightly back and forth—a bird on a wire in sway to the dreadnought drone of a horn. He lifts a mallet just in time, taps a single B flat that sends the sparrow clarinets into an air of important duties and tasks. All the while a warm front moves north into the suburbs, raising up a countryside of mist and fog— measure after measure of silent timpani thunder felt underfoot by concert goers everywhere. They step into the white dark, a people blinking into a new creation, waking to that anvil note that bore them in her rocking lap.           —by Terry Ofner Bio: Terry Ofner grew up in Iowa not far from the Mississippi River. He holds degrees from the University of Iowa, where he atte...