Anyone’s memory can be erased except yours friend seems your shadow will stay haunting mind, heart, soul from the moment you left till my last breath the pictures of you repeating always
A woman scribbles with the movement of her pen is able to change what’s unpleasant and describes only water that drips below and birds that sing above a melody forcing her ear to pay homage as she writes of sun rays lighting the earth with yellow, green, blue all the while avoiding thoughts of the … More Escape, 2020
Even herculean imagination will not bring the mind to reason that newcomers mean no harm mean only to lead towards better destinations, maybe, even to a place like Shangri-La. Could they really be different than the ones who arrived lifetimes ago and left their scars? In the beginning they too were so sweet yet always … More Isolation
Of tears, exclusion, pain among the darkness sometimes comes the ray from lives of tumult the turning of pages pen to paper to survive memory with this, books are made
I. The escalator pulls me above ground, a maudlin monotony of movement that cycles tens hundreds thousands of times a day. I wait for the moment the ridges of the moving stairwell will halt the tips of my boots so I can fall on my face. What would it be like to have strangers walk […] … More “Escalate” by Caroline Sipio — THE CITY KEY
For Chad Ostrowski So many nights I walk suburban streets alone. Porch lights send their luminosity through trees, allowing me to write between the lines of my journal. I can write anything about the sun setting over Central Pennsylvania, describe the burnt orange hair of a girl I once knew or wanted to know, write […] … More “Beyond Power Lines” by Kyle Carrozza — THE CITY KEY
Lonely men interrupt the dark with the snap of shoes on sidewalk. Skyscrapers just got taller, more empty. Traffic thins like blood on heparin. Solemn as a monks’ processional is the way home. But with frog-sac croaks in lieu of chanting. John Grey is an Australian poet and US resident. Recently published in New Plains […] … More “After the Bars Close” by John Grey — THE CITY KEY
Yes, death does come for all for every summer, there must be a fall but we always leave a part of us in the world and the part of the world which was loved always stays in the immortal heart.
Smiles Needed a place to rest my bag, had something to put in, something else to take out. Crowded Red Line train, stood in the middle, one empty aisle seat, beside an old woman who slept, scarved head on the glass, worldly possessions at her feet, on her lap. Pilled blanket cradled slumped shoulders. Blessed […] … More Two poems by Jeff Nazzaro — THE CITY KEY
Nothing’s perfect just what appears to be but even those things one day must fade every bit taken away – the only power within those seemingly perfect things is that for one brief moment, they really had been.