Poems
John Blair
there are no apples here
only thorns and her wood
is her own and she’s just
fine exactly where she
is
In a Painting, Waiting to Remember
Rebecca Watkins
The man with me dips the oar,
drags it through the liquid silver
as gently as wetting a paintbrush.
Volume XLIV
"Alchemical Poetry" - Dreama J. Kattenbraker, mixed media on canvas, 36" x 60"
