Flying Island

Free Thinker: The Road to India by Mary Sexson You never blinked an eye when you stepped off the plane in that ancient city eight thousand miles from everything you knew. You got in a cab with strangers and let them take you to some dilapidated hotel, overcharge you for a dirty room, and drop you off at the train station the next morning, your wallet a little lighter, but the stink of tourist wiped off of you forever. The train took four days to cross that heave of land, and you to find your way to a quieter place where no one would ever know who you were, and cell phones didn’t work. You walked in on your own two feet, hungry, and looking for the light.   The Continents Between Us by Mary Sexson You have sent me your songs, in zip files that I download late at night, listening intently,  trying to discern your voice, your style of guitar or drum work.   I sometimes scan the online videos    where I know I w...

Place of Peace by Marjie Giffin Elisabeth sleeps, Knees curled against my groin, My knees tucked around her toes, My mother body Encircling her daughter body: Warming the nest, Lining the next, Nesting. Our cheeks pressed, Her breaths puff evenly, Play a soft cadence Against my skin. The space between us Is moist and close, And a flutter Of her tiny lashes Touches, tickles lightly. Nestled as we are, Her slumber becoming My poetry, I commit the feel Of this little one’s lifesong To memory – That I might at any moment Recreate this place of peace. Bio: Marjie Giffin is an Indianapolis writer and educator who has taught writing as an adjunct professor at IUPUI and writing/literature at a private school for gifted students. She is an M.A. graduate of Butler University in English and continues to take writing workshops as a member of the Indiana Writers Center. She is an author of four regional published histories and has her poetry published in anthol...

skin artist by Tracy Mishkin for Noah your flesh my canvas      cortisone cream the dots of Seurat      no brush      my finger shades salve to skin      rough red rash      morning bathe paint      evening paint sleep      my hand my palette   Elidel      Vaseline      moving easel      no model paid to sit      still impatient impasto greasy splotches      scream resist     dismiss my art    quilt reed basket coiled pot      my son my canvas      masterpiece respite itching redness open sores Bio: Tracy Mishkin is a career immigrant. Born in academia, she taught in Georgia and published two books on African-American literature, then disappeared, resurfacing in ...