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  April 2015
volume 12 number 1
-table of contents-
  home   (archived)
  contributing poets
  Adeolu Emmanuel Adesanya
  Lynn Albanese
  Steven Alvarez
  Jonathan Beale
  Stefanie Bennett
  Jack G. Bowman
  Jennifer Bradpiece
  Don Kingfisher Campbell
  Michael Aaron Casares
  Beverly M. Collins
  William Crawford
  Pijush Kanti Deb
  Elisabeth Adwin Edwards
  John Elison
  Emily Fernandez
  Jeanie Greensfelder
  John Grey
  David Herrle
  Sonika Jaggi
  Strider Marcus Jones
  Phillip Larrea
  Emma Lee
  Marieta Maglas
  Matt McGee
  Christopher Mulrooney
  Dave Nordling
  Toti O'Brien
  Greg Patrick
  James G Piatt
  Frank Praeger
  April Salzano
  David Scriven
  LB Sedlacek
  Danielle Smith
  Jan Steckel
  Carl Stillwell
  Tim Tipton
  Philomena van Rijswijk
  Wanda Vanhoy Smith
  mailing list
John Grey
April 2015



art by the feral artist

    John Grey is an Australian poet, and US resident, and has had work published in the Tau, Studio One and Columbia Review, with work upcoming in Naugatuck River Review, Examined Life Journal, and Midwest Quarterly.



The Last of Nature Boy

Do you remember the honey-crisp apple
through which you devoured fall?

Or the limb that broke under your weight,
sent you crashing back to the earth?

Have you really distanced yourself
from the fate of foliage, all the while believing
how that leaves you free for people?

Part of others indeed.
You're part of the grass but you forget its smell.
You're part of the mulberry bush
but you've washed clean that stain.

You want from family, friends, lovers.
They are all your needs, you figure.
Not rain, not wind, not the way things grow
and die and bud again.

Your mind no longer sleeps under trees
or splashes in waterfalls.
Its boundaries are house and car,
funerals and weddings, laughter and company.

Once you fished at the pond
and you never caught a thing
but the dream of yourself
blending deep with the scenery.
Your hair was cattails.
Your eyes were dragon flies.
Your mouth hummed the language of bees,
or cracked open the quaint quack of mallards.

But third floor apartment now
and much traffic.
Telephone and email
and a job designing handbills.

The past is an old growth forest
and they don't exist anymore.
The present is human nature
and it's not natural.

copyright 2015 John Grey