By Stephen Longfellow Fiske   An infection plagues the land  a pandemic permeating the pores  of the human condition a poison seeping into the heart hardening the arteries of vision – A blindness unable to see outside itself festering in a famine of foresight a blight of beneficence a calamity of clarity a cancer of...

I have become earth By Jim Smith Tell me the truth, Don was saying, Could you live downtown  in one of those new condos?  I shrug. I am a Venetian. It’s not a fair question. How could I live away from the Lady,  from the smell of the sea. Here, every house has a history...

By Jim Smith In many ways, John Haag was a typical member of the Beat Generation in that he forsook a career in Academia or Madison Avenue, for a life dedicated to poverty, poetry and his community. But he was different in one important respect – he was political.  The Rochester, New York native studied...

  History Lesson That little ape that came down from a tree and used a stick on his enemy and called aloud to his family to show what a great brave ape was he made followers out of you and me.   That little ape that got caught in the rain and used some branches...

• come on down – Rex Butters • The Transient – Jim Smith • Beyond – Rebecca Moore Frey come on down By Rex Butters you hide in the hills aloof from the ills plaguing lowland people you avoid you hide in the hills imagine a claustrophobic purity false sense of security walling your home...

By Jim Smith   Lawrence Lipton was something of a father figure to the Beat poets of Venice. He was reviled by many of the poets for his manipulations and commercialism. Yet, they gravitated to his home at 20 Park Avenue, which became the center of the “scene” in Venice. In contrast to the Beats...

By Lawrence Lipton For Giordano Bruno burned by the Inquisition in the year 1600 Velvet and warm sweat under the torches the Procession entered the city, tall bronze men on the bronze great horses and the boys carrying banners, the fat prelates wheezing under the icons, and the musicians Up Main street, pausing to erect...

• what i worry about – krista schwimmer • Environmental Angels – Jim Smith • The Seeker – R.H. Dolman what i worry about by krista schwimmer that the squirrel i feed daily will be hit by a passing car in front of me — that my husband will walk the liquor store & never...

She Said  there is a time for us, & a place for that – the poem. such conflict, between the lady & the poem that separation is  today, we look one at the other, both aware that in the final love there is no allowance for tomorrow ———– The Hope softly, woman softly, your voice...

By Shanna Moore  Winter of 1959 and the boardwalk was bare, riding my bicycle along the boardwalk from Santa Monica down the coast. I’d stop at the Carousel, a gay bar on the Venice boardwalk where all the dudes and dudettes did a line dance…I loved joining in. One day this guy with the eyes...