LEON Literary Review Issue 3

FEATURED WRITER

Marianne Boruch

Genius Light Running Through Us
The simple kind that comes through a window, Tom Edison
still doing his power naps to reproduce it,
a hobby the Dead are heir to, certain special Dead
who invented the modern world….

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Pablo Medina

Reasons of Dark
Living like I did,
eating what I could,
a can of beans, a loaf of bread,
I came to know…

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Robin Rosen Chang

Apple
What if they’d never touched it,
       never wanted to disturb the bees 
swarming the orchard, 
       sticky before pollinating…

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Vida Kazemi

Erosion
How shall I put it in words
when words recede and disappear
like dreams, rendering fruitless
my efforts?…

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Kathleen Aguero

My Better Self
My better self makes excuses for me:
I don’t know what’s got into her. She’s not usually like this.
When I’m bored by some slow dinner story
my better self says, Please pass the peas

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Lisa Zerkle

Again, The Spider
       slings her lines
                                                              pins one end
       to ink weed
                                the other to angel’s trumpet
       again she fixes
                                 what she’s already fixed

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Christopher Jane Corkery

The Siren
The “thing-ness” of your poems impressed me.
By that I mean that many were the nouns
and that, among them, it seemed most were concrete
(unlike the previous line) and colorful, or colored…

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Sebastian Merrill

Persephone & Cerberus
I always wanted a dog, but
I never expected this one: 
hound of Hades, three heads…

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Pui Ying Wong

Snow White Signs the Do-Not-Resuscitate Order
I cannot stop you from saving a life, even mine.
In the early hour of hustle and flow
you smell of aftershave…

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Jim Henle

In a time of foreclosure
through a fissure in workspace
a dark rake of clouds across the sky

a nation is a vibrant collage of steel
and glass encampments like upended…

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Daniela Molnar

WEB 13/Another Heat Wave
leafblower lawnmower motoring heat        living dying loud
                                                                            in my city
this is normal                                       in my city      this is normal

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Cynthia Dewi Oka

For My Father Who Once Rubbed Shoe Polish Over His Bald Head
She said not to say anything, because it gave you hope, which

reminds me, here is the world

you cannot enter. Though you brought us, against…

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