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Image by Zach Reiner

The Gloaming
By Craig Kirchner


Our back porch faces west,

across a thick wood. When the sun is

setting just above the horizon,

it shouts a resounding last call through the trees,

that streams through the window,


bounces off the walls, gleams on the cheek.

There is a crystal prism that adds color to

the majesty and mystery this room

has needed all afternoon.

It’s a pinprick instant,


like an old friend who flies in,

didn’t tell you they were coming,

and walks through the front door.

There are other momentary experiences,

that add a wonderment to the day,


but only a very few come to mind,

and then like magic,

the rabbit under the hat, they’re gone.

The awed flame is extinguished in a flash,

like the match that lit the birthday candles.


There was a soul sought tangent,

worked its sorcery, fluttered the heart,

and now the trees are darkening,

the sky is grey, the room withers,

shrinks, waits on future twilights.

Image by Pawel Czerwinski

Dear Marguerite
By Craig Kirchner


I sat in at your stool,

10 p.m. at McGuin’s,

with the perfectly polished


cemetery stones

clattering in my cuffed,

starched khaki pocket.


There was indecision,

as I ordered another Guinness,

your favorite,


a dilemma of sorts,

as to where you would want them,

on this, the evening


of our first kiss –

above your name and dates,

or jitterbugging till dawn,


miming your moves.

Happy Anniversary,

All my love, always.

Image by Amelia Bartlett

Craig Kirchner thinks of poetry as hobo art, loves storytelling and the aesthetics of the paper and pen. He has had two poems nominated for the Pushcart, and has a book of poetry, Roomful of Navels. After a writing hiatus he was recently published in Decadent Review, New World Writing, Wild Violet, Ink in Thirds, Last Leaves, Literary Heist, Ariel Chart, Lit Shark, Cape Magazine, Flora Fiction, Young Ravens, Chiron Review, Valiant Scribe, Punk Monk and several dozen other journals

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