P. 1
Petrichor Review Issue #1

Petrichor Review Issue #1

|Views: 527|Likes:
Published by PetrichorPress

More info:

Published by: PetrichorPress on Dec 14, 2012
Copyright:Traditional Copyright: All rights reserved


Read on Scribd mobile: iPhone, iPad and Android.
download as PDF or read online from Scribd
See more
See less





Valentina Cano

An idea seemed to melt
the door frame in our room.

The wood frst wobbled,

all buckling knees,
then toppled over
without a single sound.
We gazed on,
our minds coffee grinders
of useless quotes,
useless phrases
we’ve spat out, dripping,
a hundred times.
The walls sigh as
the idea scratches at them
with claws made of
sharpened clichés.
We think on,
oblivious to the massacre,
the crumbling bricks,
the cursing plaster,
watching without seeing,
only dreaming our
soundless words.


Shooting hoops, he stumbled,
tumbled to the court.

He died doing what he loved,

which would be true
if his matter started swirling mid-dribble

like fakes in a snow globe,

friends shouting––

Beam him up!

He collapsed like a pressed thumb puppet,
bounced his head on hardwood
because his heart yanked the plug of his life
from his body.

He gasped, vomited.

This was not
what he loved,

dying on a cold foor,
suffering his teammates’ awkward CPR

and frantic rescue breathing,

confusing angels with overhead fuorescent tubes.

The basketball he mastered
rolled from his convulsing palm

so easily away.

“Pistol Pete” Maravich Died Doing What He Loved

Paul David Adkins


All of Us Await a New Season

G.A. Saindon

Cool amber shine the evening snows at rest;

Redwing blackbirds north and northwest of me

Bobbing on their reeds, quite impossibly
Weightless as those thoughts that with joy are blessed.
A pair of sandhill cranes alights so close
I hear them mumble; idly nodding low
Through Giacometti shadows and thin snow,
Gleaning unsprouted corn, that’s autumn’s ghost.
These birds and I remark on Spring’s delay,
Lingering snow, hurried daylight, and more––
My yearnings like lolling blackbirds sway
In a yellow air pierced by Sandhill lore:
Calm cranes my patience counsel. Then to pray,
Trust, that I can soon sing from every pore.

Roll Call

Doris Case



Joseph Farley

scratches in clay
scratches on palm leaves,
scratches on papyrus,
scratches on bamboo strips,
scratchings and brushings
and chiseled squiggles,
all doodlings
that dissolve into words
in the ocean of the brain.

voices speak
in scratches
and scrapings.
put the needle
of the phonograph
on the clay plot
and listen to the sound
of the potter’s wheel
the breathing of
the craftsman
and the shaping
of his hands.


Scientists say the sound of potters making their ware may have

been captured in the fnger lines of ancient pots, much as an old-

time record captured sound.


You're Reading a Free Preview

/*********** DO NOT ALTER ANYTHING BELOW THIS LINE ! ************/ var s_code=s.t();if(s_code)document.write(s_code)//-->