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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Linda Delayen

An iceberg
Strangely out of place
Drifted into my path
But I could handle this!
I melted it
And because nine-tenths
Was hidden from view
I drowned in the
Unexpected flood.

© Linda Delayen  

iceberg © Marco Tovares
Ode to the muse
Aurora1, the one
I've decided to want in my crisis,
as if there were choices
my youth each year more compromised
You stand there, absorbed
in nothing much I could fathom,
your lime-green dress,
the forbidden fruit,
and flesh-colored hose
in intimate contact with
flesh-colored flesh so distracting
while I contemplate
the waves of your hair
where I'd wish 
to have buried my agonized face
for the rest of my days
spilling over your shoulders
while I drift, 
disappointingly middle-aged
dangerously graying,
and my troubles
too entirely my own...

© Jonathan Bohrn (1999) 
1Au·ro·ra (ô-rôr-e, ô-ror-e, e-rôr-e, e-ror-e) noun. Roman Mythology.
The goddess of the dawn. (Not exactly a muse, but still worth a try asking for help in a calamity.)
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
News & Announcements
About the Poets
Additional Reading