Memory I see the train pass by
and reminisce my childhood dreams...
I lift my feet, pull them close off the ground,
tumble backward into memory.
A frothy neighborhood pool:
playing, swimming with my friends, siblings,
and then I hear the rumble of the train
I remember somersaulting, limbs off the surface bottom, water splashing, laughing,
screeching to see who might last the longest underwater,
who could beat that long lost train meandering down its
WALK ALONG A BEACH Warming currents of air lift up your memories as never quite before. Exposed now and bare, lying in tatters just out of reach, like dying embers of driftwood washed up on the beach scattered where they fell, still and resting finally from the last rising swell. Where do we go from here? Should never have begun that affair. A phrase enters your head; a word spoken out of place. Shouldn’t have come back. It was a mistake from the start to think it might actua
Casting Salt Like sleet, the salt comes out so fast that it over runs the teaspoon
and scattered on the floor.
Mother, superstitious as she was, would remind me to take a pinch and throw it over my left shoulder. This to ward off evil spirits and protect my soul. I wonder if the cake will fall. But I leave the salt on the floor knowing I might spill more
or snow the floor with flour.
I put the cake in the oven, check back in an hour for any effects of my sloppy work. But
Without a sound,
In the middle
Embracing my soul.
Into the valley of silence. Alisa Kanti began writing her poems on her phone. Sitting in a bar, in a waiting room, in an airport, on a bus, even walking down the street, wherever she could, she responded to this urgent desire to put her feelings into words. She used her mobile phone to translate the internal struggle that almost everyone endures in their lif