Our Way

cover art: emmett johns

Our Way

by Charles Rossiter

Outside the American dream

we haunt highways and streetcorners

through dirty blues and doo wop days

barrooms and coffeehouse nights

we search for friends, for truth, for love

on feather beds and oriental rugs

in dim cafes

barefoot on burning sand

we raise a glass

to electric skies gone crimson

we honor the days, the times

the ways of ancestors long gone

     who made us who we are

          who we are

~ previously published in Back Beat

   1^st ed. (Cross + Roads Press)

   2^nd ed. (Fractal Edge Press)

The distance from here to there

breath taking bookmark art: emmett johns

The distance from here to there

by Susan O’Leary

Tracing

with a

finger

on the

moon

This illusion

we

hold

certainly

at times

glances

the very

heart

of what

is

~ previously published in Breath Taking (Cross+Roads Press)

The Gathering

cover art: emmett johns

The Gathering

by William Taylor Jr.

It was a Monday night at the Jury Room

and maybe it was the beer but

the bartender looked just like

a fifty year old Charles Bukowski

and the guy at the table

with the bikers

could very well have been

Richard Brautigan

in his prime.

I watched as he sat there drinking beer

and telling funny stories.

I lit a cigarette and decided I was

James Dean

and suddenly we had

quite a party going on.

~ previously published in Bar Code (Little Eagle Press)

Listen

cover art: emmett johns

Listen

by Charles Rossiter

I'm the voice of the old ways
that can take you back to the days
of grandparents when things were
one telephone and one tv set
per household, wringer washers,
78rpm, ice boxes, victrolas
and people who owned cars
were on top of the world.

I'm the voice of the unpaved road
dusty, pock-marked and ribbed
by spring rain, I can take you places
the long straight interstate
never imagined where the air is clear
and the woods are deep,
places that make you want to
throw your head back
look up at the stars
and breathe.

I'm the voice of the front porch
where you can sit sipping iced tea
and talk to the neighbors
and your children, about nothing
but the day behind you
and the night ahead
as the world slips by.

I'm the voice of your own music
that doesn't need an agent
or a stage or even a microphone.
I'm the song inside you that talks about
where you've been and how you feel.
I'm the high note you can't quite reach
but sing out anyway, loud and long.

I'm the voice of the hearty handshake
the arm around the shoulder
the straight-forward look in the eye
that says hello friend, we're here together
you and me, let's enjoy it
while we can.


~ previously published in Back Beat (Cross + Roads Press)

One from TANGLETOWN

cover art: emmett johns

Mayor Ed
by Michael Koehler

In Tangletown
Mayor Ed runs the dry cleaners,
plays poker in the backroom
at Hunan Harry’s with the police chief
and Monsignor Cushman,
drinks dago red by the quart.
Ed pinches the waitress’ ass
and accepts campaign contributions
passed inside handshakes.
His wife gave me head
last year at the charity ball.
He has my vote.
Besides, it was nice doing to his
what he has done for years
to all us poor suckers here
in Tangletown.

~ previously published in Tangletown (Cross + Roads Press)