Morning Moon

by Phil Cline

Mist surrounds the morning moon

Hovering above night’s remainder,

Heaven’s pale reflection of regret.

Dawn waits wet residue to dry,

Moist women asleep, their legs languid,

Carelessly (...)

Impatient of the Dawn

No new lease for the cabin in the wood,

No replenishment for the lake

At the bottom of the hill,

No more apple slice

Slipped between (...)

A good short story

Like a dream, starts

In the middle;

Ends with a shake

Of your shoulders

Or a scream.

Before Life

Afloat snug in warm fluid for untold time

Awaiting mine own age to emerge,

Innocent, perfect, ready

To preen, to pretend, to prance

In seed plenum; shell, fossil, (...)

The Preacher on The Other Side of My Window Pane

At his farthest touch, beyond

A cold, translucent window pane,

Smudged, scratched, etched by (...)