By Robert Racicot
I walk empty, quiet streets, each house aglow in blue, airwaves bursting with isolation. Moon rises early, growing super pink, soon the wild creeping phlox will wake. What we call tomorrow will come, to witness our universal nexus moment. Orion hunts low, southwest, inspired the human gods to align the pyramids, little changes in the light, thousands of years ago.
By Erica Gilman Heather Macpherson is the author of The New Worcester Spy’s next three special feature poems. She attended community college before switching to Regis College in Weston, Massachusetts, where she earned her Bachelor […]
By Tyanna McCaulsky I like the rhythm of his heartbeatThe electric romantic heatBlazing under the sunsetA marvelous accent, greeting meOn the first day we meetWords bouncing back and forthAs we travel towards the northThe nuzzling […]
We collected sawdust. If we forgot it, we would be whipped by our mothers. We collected the sawdust for our school’s field, you know, for hurdling. “Step, jump, and hurdle.” We crossed a swollen river, […]
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