transfiguration by Audrey Dimola

Butterfly's Side by Janielle Beh

transfiguration

there is a purpose
cracking open
inside of me
in the squint of
the sun
the rumble of tires
on road
the electric sheen
of the river
in the morning
with city from end
to end -
this glimpse
of the green in the
gray -
ephemeral spirit
of spring,
it tells me -
you will not lose
yourself to this
season.
and if you do
it will be
to find a side of
yourself
that would otherwise
remain
forever hidden -
and unchanged.
i trust
through the ache
that splits the
heart
as the sprout
heaves its first
breath
of unbearable
newness..
i trust
as i always have
in some corner
of myself
that sometimes pain
can transfigure the
soul
even more than
joy.
                - Audrey Dimola

Audrey Dimola is an editorial acrobat and lifelong lover of words whose mantra is: burn bright, never regret it. She writes, sings, reads, and dreams her way through life in her native New York City, usually wearing leopard print and always rediscovering the magic of everyday.

Cohabitation by Amanda Oaks

Reviews below!

The poems in Cohabitation whisper to you like an old song playing on the kitchen radio. They make you stop what you're doing and remember what love feels like -- every exciting and aching bit of it. Amanda Oaks pulls our hearts on a journey where love begins "like a million linked stars/pulsating, close to death" and reminds us that love is something we grow into and wear like "skin over a knuckle/the way a house can hold a family/through a flood/of almanacs/doing all we can/just so we/can do more." Her poems float effortlessly on the page, but sink in the pit of your stomach. This book is amazing. I've been carrying around a hard copy in my bag all week and randomly opening to different pages and reading a poem here and there when I've had the chance. This morning, I read the book from start to finish while riding in to work on the bus. It's gray and rainy out but the lighting is such that it makes anything with color pop out more; this is what her poems do. As I was reading I'd get so excited about each poem (the word choice & images) and I just wanted to stand up and tell people -- "I don't care if you think you don't like poetry. You need to read this!" I'm already construing an email in my head to my co-workers about how they need to buy this book for their significant others for Valentine's Day. Seriously, this is so good. Makes me want to pluck words out of the sky and write down every single thing. — Tammy Foster Brewer

Oaks marries memorable images with haunting silences, in her new collection, showing how love gives birth to poetry. She gracefully amalgamates the emotional, physical, and intellectual intimacy of relationships in a way that is fresh and honest. Mellifluous language accompanying stunning artwork reminds the reader that the seasons of love need not follow convention. — Rebecca Schumejda, author of Falling Forward

Amanda's poems in Cohabitation breathe with a sense of cosmic anxiety. It seems the pieces are her then, now and forever all at once. The glue that binds this book together, for me at least, is the substance of life observed, distilled, and drank upon perceiving, and like quantum mechanics, Amanda's words must read different for everyone. An uneasy uniqueness to them, like they might not exist at all if we weren't in the quiet place with them. She has a wonderfully sensual way of embodying the poem like an aura. Her voice is like nature in Cohabitation. — Jason Neese

Amanda's poetry reminds me of the importance of relationships and inspires me to be more aware of the beauty that permeates my own. Words placed carefully, written thoughtfully, and full of fire. What she does in Cohabitation is capture desire. A feat much like roping the wind. A unique talent. — Laura Summers

The Light by Julia Fehrenbacher

Ine holds the sun by woutmertens

THE LIGHT

In this patch of sunlight
she writes
and wants
and waits
for something that will not come.
Steam rises
from the cold, wet grass
a single droplet
lets go
of the oak leaf.

It does not matter
what happened yesterday
or even a moment ago
The trees do not remember.
They do not
wait either, as she
does now.
They know
this full moment
is all
there is
That within it
rests
the Sun.

                - Julia Fehrenbacher

During the small windows of time when her two little girls are occupied elsewhere, Julia paints and writes and contemplates the deep questions of life. More than anything she wants to sprinkle some good around in this world and is always looking for ways to do more of that. If you’d like to join her on this path of shedding & opening and living from a place of truth and authenticity, please visit her at paintedpath.org, she’d so love to have you there.

Just Drive by Ellie Di

rita by meghannash

Just Drive

Get in the car, drive my love to work.
Pulling away from the curb, I'm suddenly drenched in the need to just drive.
It soaks through to my marrow.
The rising sun reveals the bruises of the sky, heavy with waiting autumn rain and crisping the air to that scent and temperature I've always found exhilarating.
The battered and dirty skyline seems oddly new and strange for a city I've known for years.
Main Street unfurls before me, the yellow and white lines broken beacons against the asphalt, and just beyond it, I know, is the highway.
She calls to me.
The radio offers no reprieve from the tugging on my being, on my nature: this is my gimmick, I want to win it, I'm selling out, I won't fight you no more...
The Wanderer grips the steering wheel, white-knuckled, torn in battle with the GrownUp.
I ache to keep moving forward, to straddle the worn lanes of the highway, to Niagara, to Kingston, to New York, to Montreal, to just gogogo.

But I don't.

I make the left turn onto Caroline and circle back to my house, to my kitties, to my life, the invitation and the power of the moment still ringing in my flesh.

                - Ellie Di

Ellie Di is a headologist, spiritual nomad, compulsive scribbler, literary midwife, and professional pompom shaker who spends her days writing like a motherfucker for The Headologist.

Something Other Than Death by William Taylor Jr.

carry that weight by greg.turner

Something Other Than Death

We wake each day
to all the little things
that kill us

bit by bit

and we take it as best we can.

We have little choice,
really, other than
giving in.

I suppose the trick
is to convince ourselves

we are working towards
something other than death.

We have to believe it,
at least a bit,

in order to continue.

We have to believe
the moment will come

that will transcend
the doubt and emptiness
of an average day

and reveal the missing
pieces of existence,
finally fitting them together

in perfect fashion,

showing us, once
and for all, that our time
has not been wasted.

                - William Taylor Jr.

William Taylor Jr.'s first book of stories, An Age of Monsters is out by Epic Rites Press. You can connect with William on Facebook here.

Cold Water Morning by Gregory Luce

Razors edge 01 by settme3

Cold Water Morning

No hot water
on this cold morning
so I rinse my body
and hair lightly,
warm a pan of water
on the stove to shave,
scrape the razor down
my cheeks and gently
move it over my throat,
the tenderness I give
my skin that I deny
my heart.

                - Gregory Luce

Gregory Luce is the author of the chapbooks Signs of Small Grace (Pudding House) and Drinking Weather (Finishing Line); he has published poems in numerous print and online journals and lives in Washington, DC, where he works as Production Specialist for National Geographic. Twitter: @dctexpoet

Learning by Heart by Amanda Oaks

softening by Amanda Oaks

learning by heart

some silences
are drawn out
like icicles

red skin, a heart
magnified
under the weight
after a whiteout
of words
leaves us

paralyzed

blossoms retract
back into
themselves

waiting for the
sun—

love,

to relight
the dark sky,

to soften
the slippery
shell, we knock
& knock
& knock on

until we remember
that the only way
to get
to our center

is to flesh out
our whys

                - Amanda Oaks

Inspired by Alchemy Daily

Hi, I'm Amanda Oaks curator of connection & provisioner of benevolent beauty here, at Words Dance & over at Kind Over Matter. Mama. Lover. Poet. Multi-Passionate Solopreneur. Kindness Advocate. I love laughing more than most anything.