September 20-26, 2021: Poetry from Eileen Hugo and Janice Bressler

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Eileen Hugo

Eileen Hugo is a poet. She is retired and doing all the things she loves. Her book Not Too Far was published in April 2015. She belongs to two workshops. She also served time as a Poetry Editor at The Houston Literary Review. She is delighted to say that although she gets more rejections than acceptances. She is being published in various journals and anthologies. She recently received an Honorable Mention at the Austin Poetry Festival for her poem Grandfather’s Passing.

The following work is Copyright © 2021, and owned by Eileen Hugo and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

Here In Maine

We only watch the wildfires / we don’t feel blazing heat / watch our homes disintegrate / see our memories obliterated / We only watch the tsunami / we don’t feel the smothering rush of water / see our neighbor’s house drift away / know our own is next / We only watch Haiti /we don’t feel the shaking of the earthquake /see buildings collapse / hear the lost crying out / wait for the next hurricane / We watch TV specials on climate control / feel the global warming heat waves / watch the plastic rivers swell / see the ocean licking away our shore / see the glaciers melting / We are the solution.

Janice Bressler

Janice lives with her two rescue dogs, a stone’s throw from the Pacific Ocean.

The following work is Copyright © 2021, and owned by Janice Bressler and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

On a bench in Sutro Heights Park

Humans tiny on the long stretch of sand

figures in the Japanese woodblock print my mother left me.

Missing my mother’s voice

I start at my own long sigh

come to eavesdrop on the morning

but I’m alone here and even the birds seem to be holding back.

Ready to transcribe important messages but am still waiting.

Only the hushed mumbling of waves and cars rolling below.

A raven, swoops down so close I can hear its wide wings hitting the air.

lands near me, black and rabbinic.

Its harsh caw caw caw insistent, impenetrable.

July 2021 San Francisco

 

apple remedies for heartbreak


cold curve to hot cheek

teeth snap crisp skin, suck sweetness

eat apple, bite wide, bite hard, swallow heart.

July 2021 San Francisco

 

Freed from upright world

Enter shivering icy tingle

Push off wall first lap freestyle

Currentless held by chlorine

Muscles warm, waken

Skin warms, wakens

Weightless rhythmic

Hearing breath, words wash away

At the wall flipturn tuck roll push off glide

Stretched taut body cuts through blue

August 2021  San Francisco