Poetry

"...Has it made you recover yourself and focus?..."

"...Lawns frozen into a vast aprons..."

"...soul rustling back and forth to find comfort where there's none..."

"...at least there's still long walks at night..."

"... we found ourselves singing for days on end..."

"I read the weatherman’s report..."

"...away from the noisome crowds reeking of desperation and idiocy..."

"...a thumbnail image of myself in centuries of dust..."

Departures...

"...all-female a-cappella quintet from Bulawayo, aptly named Nobuntu..."

"...everyday starts at zero ground zero until we can’t ever again..."

"...three feet of water, migrant rats crossing their own Irish Sea..."

"...off balance, but gaining hope..."

Barbara A Meier is a writer living in Lincoln, Kansas. She loves all things ancient. She works in a second-grade classroom and in her free time she likes to drive the dirt roads around Lincoln.

"... Clueless how to approach such a thing...."

"...Ink chest-space with flames to burn doubt..."

"...They wax and wane with the sunlight trickling through..."

"...humour and pathos combined incongruously..."

"...praying endlessly for an answer in all this infinite space..."

"...I hurry to write these words..."

"...my crime against the inarticulate..."

"... the taxonomy and anatomy of fruits and vegetables..."

"...She dwelt in the cosy land of kindred laughter..."

"...ghost stories uttered a hundred lifetimes..."

"...I never prepared to feel like this..."

"...not a moment passed without you..."

"... I’m not trying to sell you anything..."

"...the ring of her laughter, the audacity in her demeanour..."

"...like missing pieces of a puzzle..."

"...Abracadabra : change this world..."