Blue Mountain II

Anointed by the elementsyou are my blueeyed mountain jewel, my empty breeze returning togreet the lipsof a valley asleepin the sky George Cassidy Payne is a poet from Rochester, NY. His work has been included in such publications as the Hazmat Review, Moria Poetry Journal, Chronogram Journal, Ampersand Literary Review, The Angle at St. John Fisher College, and 3:16 Journal. George’s blogs, essays and letters have […]

We Need the Soil

because the roots are a gorgeouscatastrophe of gargling raindropsthose empty diamond shaped facescontaining the dreams of elderberriesbecause she fills earth’s basket with the black resinous warmth of grandmother’s handsbreaking the ruby white stalksof rhubarb and celery, reenactingeach contagious morningthe cherished dew of midnight’s tearsas the wild and mischievousrhythms of eternity nears George Cassidy Payne is a poet from Rochester, NY. His work has been included in such publications as the Hazmat Review, Moria Poetry Journal, Chronogram Journal, Ampersand Literary Review, The […]

Replaced

Most of my water escaped long ago too,and which one of us was reallydesigned to withstand the pressure? Slowly filtered through solid rock,the remains are all that remains:    pyrite and calcite and Uranium.Armored fish patrolling the depths,consuming the soft, fleshy parts, anddisappearing into the crystal lattice. George Cassidy Payne is a poet from Rochester, NY. […]

Olympic

Chinook salmon chant on sandstoneintestine-intuition in an agebefore teachers they emanatefrom the roots of the Naupakalike sea spray George Cassidy Payne is a poet from Rochester, NY. His work has been included in such publications as the Hazmat Review, Moria Poetry Journal, Chronogram Journal, Ampersand Literary Review, The Angle at St. John Fisher College, and 3:16 Journal. George’s blogs, essays and letters have appeared in USA Today, The Wall […]

Littered With Salvation

A flask-shaped bald head olive-black eyes. Short chestnutbrown eyebrows. Oshkosh B’goshoveralls and an ultraviolet purplesleeved shirt. Like small dollspatched with the materials of a day’s harvestsinking into the earthinto a wormhole of foliage, laughing at nothingbut the act of knowing that sometimes it’s commonand good to laugh at nothing. We played unconcealed. Outside. Submerged in winding branches and […]