Little Sister

     © Arturs Akopjans

Little sister with your face full of lashes and your raspberry lips, you’re growing up too quickly in that house i left. Already you’re reading in my old uniforms, from a decade ago, yes you’re a clever little cookie still some things you should know. you’ll need to use those eyes of yours-- half moons to see when daddys coming after you. Haunt him, tame that wolf. you do not deserve that flavor of affection. laugh innocent, leave him be, reeling in the garden where i spent the night with Jesus and those stars, that moon will be counting you among those precious stones no man can throw, (you’ll know no ceiling).

And please remember me the way i will remember your face full of lashes, cheeks of rosehips. I had to had to save myself, grant me this wish, little sister.

-by Bree

Bree is founder of Green Panda Press (Cleveland, OH) which publishes poetry and art paperbacks, chaps and sundry of the small press. Her work appears in little mags. She is the author of three memoirs.

Painting Courtesy: Arturs Akopjans

Arturs Akopjans, born October 31, 1969 in Armenia is residing and working in Riga, Latvia. In 1996 graduated Arturs Akopjans from "The Latvian Academy of Arts." Since then he has exhibited in the best galleries in the Baltic countries, Germany and Austria as well as group exhibitions in Belgium, Lithuania, Latvia and Denmark. His paintings can be seen in private collections from Latvia, Lithuania, Russia, USA, UK, Norway, Germany, Armenia and Austria.

Remembering to Breathe While Raking

      © Swadesh Misra

There is a meditation to picking up sticks.

Never have I picked up more sticks in my life!

I make piles:

          1 Big branches to be (like a tv husband)

broken down, and (like a tv wife) kept,

for some fire in the desirable future.

          2 Sticksized, for kindling.

          3 Bitty twigs I’ll leave on the deck

out back, for birds/squirrels to take

for nests, say, on an as-needed basis.

I put dirty or molded

wet wood with leaves

in bags they mark

‘for yard waste only,’

as if leaves & felled things

were the result of my lawn’s endocrine.

My own adrenaline kicks up when

the lawn bag breaks.

Shush shush!  goes my rake.

-by Bree

Bree is founder of Green Panda Press (Cleveland, OH) which publishes poetry and art paperbacks, chaps and sundry of the small press. Her work appears in little mags. She is the author of three memoirs.

Photo Courtesy: Swadesh Misra

Swadesh Misra is a photographer, writer, traveler and an artist. He loves music, nature, divinity, dreams, country, hiking and nothing more. He believes in miracles.