Three poems explore private lives shaped by longing, weariness and small acts of escape. A waitress finds companionship and comic consolation at the end of a difficult day; a quiet room becomes charged with desire as a man watches his sleeping lover; and a daughter remembers her father through the music, restlessness and thwarted freedom that filled their home.
Paul Hostovsky’s poems “Aubade” and “Romantic” bring wit, warmth and a wry eye to everyday experience: one turns sunrise into a comic drama of exuberance and indifference, while the other follows the irresistible pull of poetry, beauty and romantic impulse. Paired with a selection of original artwork from The Linnet’s Wings’ 2013 archive, the display brings together poetry and image in a lively celebration of imagination, observation and the small moments that unsettle ordinary life.
Three works confront the pressures that silence people: guilt and the search for redemption, the double-edged longing for flight and freedom, and the struggle for safety and dignity in the face of hostility. Harris, Walters and Taillefer turn fear, vulnerability and human experience into voices that insist on being heard.
These poems move between grief and wonder, finding thresholds in burial grounds, fountains, birds, islands, insects and shells. Death and departure sit beside renewal, humour and moments of sudden illumination, while sea, wind, light and living creatures carry memory into the physical world. Together, the poems explore how what is lost can remain present — transformed into landscape, sensation, imagination and the small, unexpected magic of being alive.
The three stories gathered here move through childhood, memory, labour, and inheritance. In scenes of rainwater, porch-light storytelling, family grief, and working lives marked by poverty and endurance, the ordinary world becomes charged with consequence. These works look closely at what is passed down: stories, losses, small loyalties, social wounds, and the stubborn human will to keep going.
This wide-ranging selection moves between the cosmic, the spiritual and the deeply human, exploring the fragile boundaries between life and death, freedom and confinement, love and loss. Howard Bernbaum’s How Long the Life takes an irreverent journey from a hospital deathbed to the origins of the universe, setting the immense scale of creation against the brief and often absurd circumstances of individual human lives.
Diana Ferraro’s essay on Spanish women writers opens another perspective, tracing a literary tradition in which spirituality, imagination and the supernatural become ways of reaching beyond social and personal confinement.
Together, these works consider what lies beyond the surface of ordinary existence: the vastness above us, the unseen life within us, and the persistent human desire to find freedom, love and illumination in the face of mortality.
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'How Long the Life' by Howard Bernbaum, a striking juxtaposition unfolds between the cosmic journey of a meteor and the human saga at a hospital. |
In this essay, there's an imaginative spirituality tradition that is vividly represented here by St. Teresa of Ávila, whose mystical poetry transforms death into the promise of a greater life; by Rosalía de Castro, whose Galician poems move between humour, desire, love, reputation and sorrow; and by Gloria Fuertes, whose deceptively simple, rebellious verse insists upon compassion and light in a world capable of extinguishing both. |
These four poems move through imagination, memory, childhood and transformation, each finding something luminous beneath the surface of ordinary experience. From the sea-bound fellowship of *The Melody and the Song*, through Evie Robillard’s tender glimpses of children growing toward an unknowable future, to Maria Isakova Bennett’s richly tactile meditation on pigment, art and the body, the poems are linked by a sense of passage. Seasons turn, children change, journeys continue, and colour, story and human connection become ways of carrying experience forward.
These stories explore the lasting consequences of experience, and the ways memory, history and human relationships shape the lives that follow. In *DPP v Morgan, 1975*, Parineeta revisits violence, consent and the law through a woman forced to confront a traumatic past. Joseph Giordano’s *I’m a Jellyroll* moves through divided and reunited Germany, displacement and political history, finding in music the possibility of connection between two people shaped by very different losses. M.E. McMullen’s *Souvenirs You Never Lose* turns broken relationships and accumulated disappointments into darkly comic territory, where old wounds are carried alongside friendship, resentment and absurdity. Together, the stories consider the scars people inherit or acquire—and the complicated ways they endure, remember and begin again.
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In *Souvenirs You Never Lose*, M.E. McMullen turns heartbreak, failed relationships and everyday humiliation into a sharply comic meditation on the scars people carry with them. Through the long-suffering friendship of Miles and Dodds, the story moves from lost girlfriends and ruined marriages to vanished pancake houses, blocked roads and one spectacular battle with a plastic sawhorse. Beneath the absurdity lies something more tender: the recognition that old hurts rarely disappear completely, and that friendship, humour and self-mockery are sometimes the best ways of learning to live with them. |
In *DPP v Morgan, 1975*, Parineeta revisits a landmark British rape case through the imagined perspective of the woman at its centre. Moving between memory, marriage, violence and the courtroom, the story examines the devastating consequences of a legal culture in which a man’s claimed belief in consent could outweigh the reality of a woman’s refusal. By placing personal experience alongside legal history, Parineeta turns a famous judgment into an intimate exploration of trauma, power and the long afterlife of injustice. |
In I’m a Jellyroll, Joseph Giordano brings together memory, political history, displacement and music through the meeting of an East German musician and a Kurdish singer in Dresden. The story moves through the divided and reunited Germany, family loss and the uneasy consequences of political change, while playfully invoking the enduring legend that John F. Kennedy’s famous declaration, “Ich bin ein Berliner,” made him sound as though he had called himself a jelly doughnut. Beneath its humour lies a story about people uprooted by history and the possibility of finding connection, identity and a new beginning through music. |
Stephen Zelnick moves from Oliver Goldsmith’s exuberant comic theatre to the fierce, changing poetic voice of Alfonsina Storni and the restless, formally inventive verse of Thomas Hardy. With wit, close reading and a keen ear for language and performance, these essays place each writer within the pressures of their time — love and marriage, social convention, gender, faith, war and mortality — while exploring how voice, form and imagination transform lived experience into enduring art.
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Ghost by James Graham |
Letters to my Grandmother by Annette Volfing |
Again by Annette Vulfing |
Roses by Annette Volfing |
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Wolf's choice of language--simple yet potent--mirrors the poem's core idea of a standstill. The imagery of the past and future pressing "in against now" as a "single point" vividly encapsulates the feeling of being trapped in the present, unable to move forward or retreat |
Gauvreaus' imagery is rich and evocative, creating a palpable atmosphere of melancholy and resignation. The poem beautifully captures the essence of grief and the coping mechanisms people resort to |
Eira Needham's use of rich imagery and symbolism invites readers to embark on their own brief escape, experiencing the fleeting moments of beauty and the inevitable return to reality. |
Noone's poem resonates deeply with themes that are both timeless and timely transformation, the cyclical nature of life, and the beauty found in renewal. It's a reminder that after the desolation of autumn and the cold of winter, there is always the promise of spring, a time for new beginnings and beauty |
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Archie's adventures and misadventures, from his initial quest for a dime to his interactions with various characters in his community, reveal a society where children are forced to mature quickly, facing realities that test their ingenuity and moral compass. |
"Explore Artist at Work" by William Reese Hamilton, a gripping tale of love, art, and transformation. Dive into a complex relationship set against a backdrop of urban decay, where art becomes a metaphor for connection and self-discovery. A narrative rich in emotion and psychological depth. |
"Epic" serves as a meditation on the nature of creativity, the solitude often required for profound thought and work, and the complex relationship between an artist and the society that surrounds them |
"Gemini in Twilight" by Galen R.Faison weaves a poignant narrative that navigates through the realms of family legacy, the resilience born out of struggle, and the indelible marks left by our ancestors |
Three poems of haunted places and wounded lives move from the battered Devon coast to a Venetian waterside and the darker streets of Dublin. Sea, rain, memory, and grief bind them together, revealing landscapes marked by absence, sudden sorrow, and the ghosts of what cannot be undone.
The three stories gathered here move through childhood, memory, labour, and inheritance. In scenes of rainwater, porch-light storytelling, family grief, and working lives marked by poverty and endurance, the ordinary world becomes charged with consequence. These works look closely at what is passed down: stories, losses, small loyalties, social wounds, and the stubborn human will to keep going.
A horse breeder faces relentless rain, failing pasture and a hard economic choice, in a story about responsibility, attachment and endurance.
A visit to quiet cathedral grounds becomes a meditation on violence, memory and the troubling ease with which the physical world can erase its traces.
Mary Magdalene speaks across time of sacrifice, sorrow and hope, asking what humanity has learned from its long history of cruelty and loss.
An exploration of Tiffany’s glass, artistic invention and craftsmanship, tracing the meeting of colour, technology and the decorative arts.
A reflection on poetry, painting and music as essential freedoms, and on the place of the arts in sustaining a flourishing human life.
From revolutionary Paris to later generations, friendship, political upheaval and migration shape a story about belonging and the search for a freer life.

The Ghosts of Lily Pond
by Tom Sheehan
Ah, Saugus, the town I took to Korea many years ago, savored, brought back! Images strike here, deadly accurate in their mark. Metaphors, booted and buckled and loaded for bear, ride horseback through my town, holding forever in place. At times they ride roughshod or, taking a breath, saunter a bit, smelling new-cut hay over hill, or marsh grass caught up in light appreciation of salt about the air, all Atlantic talking. Realization comes too: Times there were when our river was like an old man trying to get into bed, slow climb at banking, belt or pajamas astray, slight failures; some springs, it would be caught up in flume’s rush. Our pond, long-gone Lily Pond, comes up odd mornings of memory like a hobo rising from his varied nights; a serious master of colors, Persian red, coin gold, yellow of a wheat or a blonde, autumn in the traces, ignition’s flare. Or there’ll be April-May at explosion about that wide saucer of water, Turnpike to dam, cliff-face to Prohibition cabins now taller with cellars plunked beneath them, post WWII heaven for returning veterans, with their new brides, foreign brides, casting hundreds of skaters and swimmers and boaters and fishermen on these shores, on that horizon before any of us realized the change.
Burl: a lump or slub in wool or cloth -The Oxford Dictionary
Bonnie Peeples dragged two slow steps into her living room and stopped stone still. Something was very wrong. She listened. No sounds. She leaned on her cane with both hands and darted her eyes without turning her head. No movement. The furniture seemed the same, the reading lamps, the paintings on the walls, the dull and mindless ticking of the clock. No, it was something else. Something was missing, something so obvious that its loss struck her like a blow and she crumpled to the floor with a little bleating cry. When she had regained enough strength, she sat up and checked again: yes, the floor was bare, uncarpeted, stripped and naked. Pulling on chair legs and the side of the piano, she crawled to the table and grasped at the phone. She couldn’t quite reach so she raised the crook of her cane and pulled the receiver close.
'Missing Persons Bureau,' she said and the operator put her through, one of the benefits of age to have your numbers dialled for you.
'Your name?'
'Bonnie Peeples. 70 Lakeview Street.'
'Name of the person missing, please. Last name first.'
'Last name, Ram,' said Bonnie.
'First name?'
'Sam.'
'Sam Ram?'
'Yes, Sam the Ram.'
'Gender?'
'Male, of course.'
'Age? And your relationship to said person?'
'He’s been a member of the family since the crossing in 1849.'
'The cross, ma'am?'
'Yes, when the Peeples family came across from Ireland.'
'A cross? The people of Ireland?'
'Sam came with the family.'
'Ma’am, what are you reporting here?'
I still see it. The deterioration of this old house. She has masked it with navy paint and new shutters, but it is drowning. Sinking into itself. There are snakes and raccoons in the walls, clawing at night like twigs over siding. Exterminators have been called. Redialed.
There are days I wonder if the orange rust on the gate is real, or an apple pie slice of my childhood. I cling to this. Fruit plucked from branches, skewered with brazened swords made from basement pipes. My wife removed it years ago, when our son was old enough to start running his fingers across the table top in search of sugar.
Archie is sick; ever since he got knocked out nothing seems right no more. Everything is strange he sees things moving away from him and then they come back real close. It’s mostly the walls in the room but now it’s the trees and the houses, hedges, sky, and everything else. He just can’t get things to stop moving away and then back when he looks at them. And he wants to throw up from time to time and his tongue is sore and swollen.
He must of bit his tongue when he went down cause it’s been bleeding and it hurts too much to eat. He’s walking to school but he don’t want to go: he might throw up in the classroom. He’s known as a tough guy now but he don’t feel like no tough guy.
And Pike-eye Monahan? Everybody’s mad at him because he lost on a foul to a little kid. Everybody hates a dirty fighter especially if he’s supposed to win. They say his pa’s so mad he shipped the disgraced bad guy out of town—maybe all the way back to Ireland. Even Pike-eye’s friends are getting shunned, ain’t nobody wants to talk to them no more. Somebody said Archie was always gonna be known as the guy who run Pike-eye outta town.
"Flight 103 to Lockerbie: Happy Anniversary" by Russell Bittner poignantly contrasts the serene domesticity of a winter storm with the devastating tragedy of the Lockerbie bombing. The poem reflects on the comfort of home and the unspeakable loss suffered by others, evoking the grief of those who wait in vain for loved ones who will never return, underscoring the stark divide between personal peace and collective sorrow.
The snow had come early that winter. It lay in wind-polished drifts across the open Dakotas a white hush waiting to be broken. In the half-light of morning breath formed clouds around the mouths of Lakota children and the elders stirred coals back to life beneath their thin canvas shelters. Hunger clung to everything. The treaties had been broken again and the agency rations were spoiled or delayed again.
In Dull Day at the Beach, Julie Hogg drifts between Jerez and Cadiz, where dragonflies dance, sparrows sip the Atlantic, and a single wave arches like an eyebrow. A languid, sensual meditation on nuance, stillness, and the quiet poetry of the Costa de la Luz
In Listening to Maria Callas, James Graham contrasts the harsh noise of daily life with the transcendent beauty of Casta Diva. Her voice silences the world’s clamor, sowing peace in a moment where music eclipses war, machines, and time itself.
In "Viewing Vermeer's 'Young Woman with a Water Pitcher,'" Neil Dyer contemplates the quiet power of the painting's subject. The poem highlights the woman’s connection to light, as she becomes a vessel channeling sunlight into the room, bringing everything to life. The poet gradually uncovers the subtle radiance of the scene, where light transforms the ordinary into something sacred and vibrant.
In False Detective, Patricia Walsh captures a life under constant watch--letters censored, calls screened, movements monitored. Through sharp, restless lines, the poem explores paranoia, control, and the uneasy dance between suspicion and self-preservation
The Album by Nick Bowman is a moving elegy in verse, unfolding the quiet mystery of a woman's past through keepsakes and photographs. As memories resurface from a bottom drawer, a haunting revelation at Belsen deepens the grief--and wonder--of those she left behind.
In People in Rooms, Gemma Meek captures a moment of quiet survival--tempting fate, watching the bridge at days end, and finding small refuge in Bukowski. A raw, unvarnished glimpse into solitude, longing, and the fragile act of getting through another day.
As the story unfolds, Flora and Esteban reflect on the thin lines between fiction and reality, recognizing their power to influence the course of both. In this world of energy and storytelling, ancient tales and modern realities intertwine, revealing the profound impact of imagination and memory on the flow of time.
Hobs and Fiddle
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