RECLUSE ON LORAIN AVENUE<\/strong><\/p>\n

I went to the literary reading
\nat a bookstore on Lorain Avenue.<\/p>\n

I got there early
\nand I was small talking<\/p>\n

to people as they trickled in.<\/p>\n

While I stood and pivoted<\/p>\n

in between the shelves
\nand display racks<\/p>\n

I noticed
\na somewhat familiar face.<\/p>\n

As we struck up a conversation
\nI remembered that I had heard him read<\/p>\n

at a gallery gathering in Cleveland
\nabout ten or so years ago.<\/p>\n

It was strange to realize<\/p>\n

that the past event was also the last time
\nI publically read my own writing in this town.<\/p>\n

That would soon change though<\/p>\n

because before long
\na group of around fifteen people<\/p>\n

filed into an adjacent room
\nto find seats.<\/p>\n

I plopped myself
\ninto a side sofa<\/p>\n

and the informal reading began.<\/p>\n

A random pod of poets
\nwith their random crafted thoughts<\/p>\n

randomly revealed their inner sanctums<\/p>\n

and their momentary gifts<\/p>\n

seemed to float and rise to the ceiling
\nlike unseen incense.<\/p>\n

I looked up at a painting
\non the wall before me<\/p>\n

with Andy Warhol and Jean-Michael Basquiat
\nportrayed side by side<\/p>\n

and I eventually orated
\na couple of my literary meanderings<\/p>\n

as other individuals followed
\nwith offerings<\/p>\n

that were voiced out
\nfrom chair to chair.<\/p>\n

All in all
\nit was unique onto itself<\/p>\n

and just like jazz
\nthat particular combo of people<\/p>\n

heard a collective rendering
\nthat will never exist again<\/p>\n

and that only their ears
\nwere privileged to hear.<\/p>\n

After the get-together was over<\/p>\n

I said some cordial goodbyes
\nand unceremoniously left<\/p>\n

to slowly walk down a sidewalk<\/p>\n

headed into the direction
\nof the West Side Market.<\/p>\n

While I trudged along
\nI summarily thought to myself,<\/p>\n

Well, I just gave another reading
\nof my work in Cleveland\u2014<\/p>\n

Every ten years or so
\njust like clockwork.<\/p>\n

– Joe Balaz<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

I Once Was A Parent Of A Gifted Child<\/strong><\/p>\n

I told her she need not be sad.
\nI followed that up by telling her
\nshe was a woman. She looked
\nsurprised and bewildered. I
\ntold her I had discovered that
\nwhen she was a child in school.
\nI told her a teacher had told
\nme that. A moment later a man
\nwalked into our house and asked
\nif everything was okay. I said,
\nfine, what do you want. He said
\nhe was here to take her away,
\nthat she had called him and it
\nsounded like she needed his help.
\nI told him I had to use the lavatory.
\nI came back and they were gone.<\/p>\n

– Daniel Gallick<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

Last night I slept on a bed of roses,
\nRed, pink and gold
\nI awoke today with thorns piercing
\nMy sides<\/p>\n

– Helen Shepard<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

“If Zorro” – Joe Balaz<\/p><\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

Spirit, Bone, Body, Mind<\/strong><\/p>\n

Spirit and bone, bone and spirit \u2013
\nwhich the rein, which the stirrup?<\/p>\n

Bone in body, body round bone \u2013
\nwhich one jester, which one throne?<\/p>\n

Right hand laughs as left goes long
\ncuz nothing\u2019s right, nothing\u2019s wrong,<\/p>\n

Two left feet or lack of spine?
\nNeither one\u2019s a crime.<\/p>\n

Mind or brain or mental gain
\ndepend on aim of game.<\/p>\n

Your multiple choice questions \u2013
\ndon\u2019t leave answer, just suggestion.<\/p>\n

\u2013 Smith<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

– Heather Ann Schmidt<\/p><\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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