By Robert Epstein

a flower does not talk

. . . and yet

this fragrance

Robert Epstein

my shrinking life

I never did own

a little black book

Robert Epstein

bee sting ––

I thought I knew you

better than that

Robert Epstein

at home

snuggling in bed

with the wrong book

Robert Epstein

old wooden bridge

how you keep me

hanging on

Robert Epstein

By Robert Witmer

spring wind

a bamboo hubbub

rubs against the sky

Robert Witmer

a small boat

asleep in the waves

the fisherman tracing stars

Robert Witmer

chiseled

from marble

the hand of a slave

Robert Witmer

behind her eyes

so many rooms

a breeze through rose curtains

Robert Witmer