Presence 67

noon heat
the tightening coil
of a rattlesnake

Bryan Rickert

Lindisfarne —
a white horse ambles
out of the mist

— Sandra Simpson

pond reflections
the many ways to see
what isn’t real

Adelaide B. Shaw

she becomes
opaque and beautiful
over time
like the sea glass
we collect on the shore

— Bryan Rickert

the judder
of the fan
as it starts up
that moment on waking
when you remember …

— Alison Williams


I have been sitting at this desk, staring out the window, since dawn. A few hours ago, a kestrel hovered over a patch of bleached grass, and now, in the distance, wisps of virga hang from a growing thunderhead. Later this evening, a few fat spats of rain may stain the patio before vanishing.

blank page
this thirst
for one word

Lew Watts