winter 2014                                                                                                issue 24

Buenos Aires, Argentina by Christopher Novak

riverbabble 24

Featured Poet

                                             Sharon Coleman:    Cold Angels


Rafael Jesús González:
         Lamento sin llanto / Lament Without Tears
         Me han dicho / I Was Told

Laura McCullough:
          The Other Temple
          The Dark Lake by the Sea

Christopher Mulrooney:
          the strawberry festival
          a cowboy poem

Sheryl L. Nelms:
          Black Vermillion Crossing
          Texas Hill Country

Felice Aull:   City Hurricane

Amy Neill Bebergal:   Unclaimed Treasure

Fern G. Z. Carr:    Transatlantic Passage

Michael Collins:    Shards for Sophia

William Doreski:   Our Local Geyser

Joanne Faries:   The Worst

Karen Greenbaum-Maya:   Our Lady of the Red Potatoes

KJ Hannah Greenberg:    Pamela's Poem: Cabbage and Milk Thistle

Joan McNerney:   Opening Layered Blindness

Suchoon Mo:    A Yellow Bird

Edward Mycue:   Gardening

James B. Nicola:   Puddle in the Parkway

Robert Pesich:   Cup Reading

Anita Pulier:   A Moment in Time

Sandra Storey:   Up Country

John Swain:   A Golden Bird

Phibby Venable:   Skyline

Anne Whitehouse:   After the Apocalypse

Prose Poems

Chuck Taylor:
          By Way of Explanation
          To the Commissioner of Bubble Gum

Sarah Winn:   Skyless


Melissa Grunow:   Love Where There Is No Love


Cynthia Benson:   Embracing Beauty

Chris Dungey:   Prep Work

Tony Press:   A Nica in Blighty

John Richmond:   The Rogue Dream

Garrett Rowlan:   Closing Credits

James Shaffer:   Burden of Proof

Hao C. Tran:   Ghosts

Alice Whittenburg:   The Trap of Beauty

Flash Fiction

Ted Chiles:
           No Need to Huff-an-Puff

Chella Courington:
           Silver Talisman
           The Woman Named for a Saint

Cecele Kraus:   A Passionate Bequest

Tony Press:   American Beauties


Bara Swain:   Sadie (monologue)


Christopher Novak:   Buenos Aires, Argentina

Then all melted away dewily in the grey air: all was silent. Ah! She glanced at him as she bent forward quickly, a pathetic little glance of piteous protest, of shy reproach under which he coloured like a girl. He was leaning back against the rock behind. Leopold Bloom (for it is he) stands silent, with bowed head before those young guileless eyes.

                                                                    JAMES JOYCE, Ulysses, p.300. 13, 741-745.

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