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Brendan Constantine’s work has appeared in numerous journals, most notably Ploughshares, FIELD, Zyzzyva, Ninth Letter, Poetry Daily, Verse Daily, ArtLife, The Los Angeles Review, The Pinch and L.A. Times Best Seller, ‘The Underground Guide to Los Angeles.’ His most recent collections are ‘Birthday Girl With Possum’ (2011 Write Bloody Publishing) and ‘Calamity Joe’ (2012 Red Hen Press). Mr. Constantine has received grants and commissions from the Getty Museum, James Irvine Foundation, and the National Endowment for the Arts. He is currently poet in residence at the Windward School and adjunct professor at Antioch University. In addition, he regularly offers classes to hospitals, elder care centers and shelters for the homeless. Visit Brendan on the web here.
The following work is Copyright © 2013, and owned by Brendan Constantine and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.
This grove belongs to the hills beyond
The bear in the bellboy’s cap is mine,
I rescued. This coat I saved from
from a sycamore which means
while I cut them down. Now’s the time
to sweep my bear to sleep. I forget
that he dreams my songs, but I never
the grove. If they refuse we’ll appeal
My bear will get half, though he’ll stay
No One Spoke
for at least an hour. Maybe longer. It was longer.
Cheryl A. Van Beek
Cheryl A. Van Beek has had poems published in Sandhill Review and has had poems accepted by Long Story Short Poetry and Poetry Pacific to be published in upcoming issues. She is a member of the Saint Leo Writers’ Circle and has also written for a local newspaper. She is a caregiver for her mother and lives with her husband and their two cats in Wesley Chapel, Florida, the “Land of Flowers,” where she tends an ever expanding garden of diverse wildlife including alligators and the occasional cow.
The following work is Copyright © 2013, and owned by Cheryl A. Van Beek and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.
Launder your “some days”
Jean Paul Sartre wrote,