Lothlorien Poetry Journal

  On a Current Theatrical Season   There is a world waiting for its time to happen. It waits, attentive to the counterpoint marker, ...

  A PANGLOSSIAN DAY BESIDE THE DEBEN I know it's too late to enjoy a. Birthday treat: mudflats spread light across the river but who res...

  Space Invaders Coin slot empty, still I play on. Frantically pressing the red button, sweat slithers across the joystick, like...

  When Your Silence Filled The Room It was in the hollow pause after your sentence, when the air thickened, and the world waited. No flutter...

  Apparitions in a Lemon Grove     In this series of gallery paintings, we see Rene Magritte strolling between rows of trees, Sketch paper u...

  Favela     You handed me your glasses and asked that I look inside your head.   So I did.   I peered in closely, as though rea...

  FOREST OF WE In the forest of we Your hand reaches out Touches a limb But not flesh or bone     Deep indigo blue A star show...