Public Republic

Roumen Leonidov Photo: Stuart Chalmers At Central Station in the center of the snack joint the drunk railwaymen are drinking their twentieth beer… Boys that hang around are hitting on Diddy once again, Diddy, the beauty behind the buffet; time and again they raise their glass trumpets blowing them ardently, then at the cash register […]

Christina Lovin Photo: Zest-pk They love each other. There is no loneliness like theirs. James Wright, “A Blessing” Now there are two. Seven deer, I’m told, before the cougar’s appetite growled: one by one they were taken down to the forest’s soft floor. Just these two escaping: a tale told by the ragged ear of […]

Interview with Barry George by Barbara Sabol Barry George’s haiku have been distinguished through numerous publications and awards. Wrecking Ball and Other Urban Haiku, to be released April 1, 2010 by Accents Publishing, is his first collection of haiku. George’s haiku blend a distinctly urban content with the nature-oriented perspective of traditional haiku. A true […]

Roumen Leonidov Photo: Anosmia Because my straitjacket armor was a bit too short they shod me in a pair of knights’ boots, they pulled a helmet over my eyes, my hands they chopped off, just in case. And because it’s only knights I’ve met since then, I rush to handshake them, rush to handshake them, […]

Christina Lovin Photo: hickoryhollow113 I am afraid, I admit. There are reports of mountain lions in these woods. I am mortal, like the deer and the squirrel, but I come prepared: large stick in my hand, a knife from the kitchen in my pocket. A quick study, I stop and turn as I have read, […]

Kenneth Pobo Photo: [nati] Thirteen in October 1967, face smeared with brown Clearasil to hide popped pimples. Bullies gathered. Jesus said He’d return one day to avenge me. Too distant. The Family had a hit single in Chicago, “Face The Autumn.” How to face Atutumn? Winter? Spring? Bullies, birds surrounding the house at the end […]

Kerana Angelova Photo: HaPe_Gera Caterpillars wriggle And creep fluffily It’s difficult to believe Their mother is the butterfly With oriental eyes Her wings made of ashes and beams of light Her flight above oval meadows As aslant as the dance of souls Butterflies have such a lot of Sky to fly And What a lot […]

By Changming Yuan Photo: kevindooley we chinamen, half and quarter chinamen children of eight or sixteenth chinamen constantly pounded with a peculiar pride over our ancestry’s four great inventions: the first was paper to transcribe ancient ballads but later often used to give ultimata to your emperors also the printing technique to transmit sages’ teachings […]

Roumen Leonidov From The Night of the Salesman Photo: DerrickT In an empty room a little boy is sitting cross-legged With its back to us. The child is naked, it is obvious he is resting his chin On an elbow, thinking. The square of the floor rises Into a cone, the room turnes into a […]

Christina Lovin Photo: Ctd 2005 I wanted to write something deep, but your eyes are only blue: that color of October oceans or the clear skies of May, though not so fathomless. Your gaze holds more these tidal pools reflecting August’s rain-thirsty heaven and flocks of greedy gulls. Knowing them to be too shallow, too […]

Leatha Kendrick Photo: slingshots+meo remalante A day at home, no big news. Alone, with CNN and tea, stiff bones of the Christmas tree, ravenous for unsweet things. After the gush of singing, unsought treats and gifts, it’s time to pay. A rush to Returns’ endless line. A fine for late-mailed, past-due bills. It’s back to […]

Becca Books Photo: brains the head I know I’m near. Not so bad as some. Here, I mean. Here ― whatdoyoucallit. Wait, it will come. I wanted to die in my own little head; but after the ― clock? No… stroke! Stroke of midnight, that’s how I got there. Here, I mean, to the Test […]

Sheri Wright Jim Lally’s love of earth is presented to us quietly, deeply, much like his description of a Quaker gathering in his poem At The Quaker Meeting. This book shows us that we can live in a balanced way with our surroundings, with each other and that change does not require coercion, that it […]

Roumen Leonidov Photo: Mira Dimova Every morning I tear away the tip of my tongue so that I can lick so that I can lick and I lick and I lick tranquilly the fishbone of tranquility. Who can keep me from licking I was ordered to lick my lips I was ordered to lick my […]

Kenneth Pobo Photo: mikebaird My Sunday School teacher mom wears a green dress. In baggy pants, bow tie, I’m thinking about Mama Cass, Question Mark and the Mysterians, Keith. Glenn laughs, talks out of turn, interrupts. His mom, Lydia, stalks in, gives him a SLAP across the face. Glenn, no expression, like he wants to […]

Christina Lovin Photo: FotoDawg The snow came first, and then the rain— it froze to everything exposed, increased upon itself like grief or love left unexpressed, until the heavy branches sagged with melancholy weight. Some crashed to earth, some fingered roofs or cars, electric lines like arcs of flight across the frozen air.

Leatha Kendrick Photo: rolands.lakis This boy sleeps on my lap, his fists curled and pink as April oak leaves. His feet root against my arm. His head a soft arc against my bent arm. When I reach across his belly’s curve, my arm brown-spotted, pale, his breath unfurls a scream. I am the rotting log […]

Christina Lovin Photo: clspeace “A woman without humor is a lost woman.” Djuna Barnes Nellie wore Slightly Wicked cologne— the bottle shapely, a deep shade of rose: that blush from a woman who understands the bawdy joke, the double entendre— a knock off ordered from catalogs of household supplies—brushes, brooms, dust mitts, cleanser— and delivered […]

Mariana Velichkova Photo: Catherinette Rings Steampunk I have tried so many times to forget about you to delete you to erase you to get over you even to pretend I never met you And of course to graciously move on… Well, with the same success air or fire can turn into a stone.

Becca Books Photo: jurek d. Fifty years here. Then all in one stroke… My turn now. No help but to go. I’m Old Folk. Let me see, let me see. What will I need? What does it mean when you’re even past need? The one single thing I wish I could bring Is the warming […]