Summer 2009
Table of Contents - Vol. V, No. 2
Poetry Essays Translations Fiction
Janet Butler
Rains mist a gray day
and vapors seep
from dark worlds
within.
They breathe thin ghosts
from nether places,
their chaotic dins dulled
by hard strokes of rain
beating swollen streets to submission.
The lightest breath of burnt things
heats the air.
Life flows on, unaware
of shadows, gathering,
waiting there.
© Janet Butler