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The Literary Review

Featured Poet Nathan Whiting

Issue 9 Featured Poet
Lisa Galt Bond

August 22 2021

In the city tonight
hell and high water are here
hurricane rain beating down on the pavement
the moon is blue it is a Flyaway Moon a Sturgeon Moon a Mountain Moon
a Shadow Moon
a Wolf moon
a full moon in Aquarius
it lifts me up lifts me down leaves me sideways and always in the company that
surrounds me

ethereally

looking for the lyrics
of the buried song
the birds sing on the porch
stash the seeds somewhere
In the cold winter

Sometimes

I feel like I’m plagiarizing myself

the words come back in a different form or another body
the song dances in the air
caresses
and frees me

you say you see me now
without speaking the words at all

September 5th 2021

yes
we have gotten here
where
so few people can be succinct
In their vision
and cut through
when they are caught inside
needing to fly

The storm is a tropical band with arms
you can see it in red on the radar map

you can see the light pollution coming back from Oneonta

we took the land but kept the names

imprisoned people
on the badlands
whoever we were whoever they are now with the world doing a death rattle
with our own time running out again

everyone is haunted

we are all touched by
the objects that surround us
the moon outside
down the dark road

you said look into the woods for the eyes glowing in the dark

the unseen around us

inside the house It is the same

September 8 2021

fragments
are always
around
leaves falling from a tree
petals from a flower
red and brilliant
turn to ground
here in the middle of the woods

********

when did you stop
creating
in the present
and
being
in the presence of a presence

****

are all poems written to someone
are all songs sung to somebody
or is it like fishing in a dark pond

A Song

being in your moment

let it go where it wants to go

the music
your voice
the time it takes
to make it whole

let it go where it wants to go

what if the dead have a hierarchy
and restricted enclaves
what if there is a “social” order
and dead souls are competitive

I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop
way down
I toss and turn inside
So do you

There are a lot of peaks
and valleys

in the sand Great pyramids stand
Out in the street it’s the sound of intense rhythmic music from a car

In my head it’s the visions
that flash by quickly
of all our times on earth

The Literary Review

Table of Contents

Featured Poet Nathan Whiting

August 22 2021

In the city tonighthell and high water are herehurricane rain beating down on the pavementthe moon is blue it is a Flyaway Moon a Sturgeon Moon a Mountain Moon a Shadow Moona Wolf moona full moon in Aquariusit lifts me up lifts me down leaves me sideways and always in the company thatsurrounds me

ethereally

looking for the lyricsof the buried songthe birds sing on the porchstash the seeds somewhereIn the cold winter

Sometimes

I feel like I’m plagiarizing myself

the words come back in a different form or another bodythe song dances in the aircaressesand frees me

you say you see me nowwithout speaking the words at all

September 5th 2021

yeswe have gotten herewhereso few people can be succinctIn their visionand cut throughwhen they are caught insideneeding to fly

The storm is a tropical band with armsyou can see it in red on the radar map

you can see the light pollution coming back from Oneonta

we took the land but kept the names

imprisoned peopleon the badlandswhoever we were whoever they are now with the world doing a death rattlewith our own time running out again

everyone is haunted

we are all touched bythe objects that surround usthe moon outsidedown the dark road

you said look into the woods for the eyes glowing in the dark

the unseen around us

inside the house It is the same

September 8 2021

fragmentsare alwaysaroundleaves falling from a treepetals from a flowerred and brilliantturn to groundhere in the middle of the woods

********

when did you stopcreatingin the presentandbeingin the presence of a presence

****

are all poems written to someoneare all songs sung to somebodyor is it like fishing in a dark pond

A Song

being in your moment

let it go where it wants to go

the musicyour voicethe time it takesto make it whole

let it go where it wants to go

what if the dead have a hierarchyand restricted enclaveswhat if there is a “social” orderand dead souls are competitive

I’m always waiting for the other shoe to dropway down I toss and turn insideSo do you

There are a lot of peaksand valleys

in the sand Great pyramids standOut in the street it’s the sound of intense rhythmic music from a car

In my head it’s the visionsthat flash by quicklyof all our times on earth

looking for the lyrics
of the buried song
the birds sing on the porch
stash the seeds somewhere
In the cold winter

the words come back in a different form or another body
the song dances in the air
caresses
and frees me

you say you see me now
without speaking the words at all

yes
we have gotten here
where
so few people can be succinct
In their vision
and cut through
when they are caught inside
needing to fly

The storm is a tropical band with arms
you can see it in red on the radar map

imprisoned people
on the badlands
whoever we were whoever they are now with the world doing a death rattle
with our own time running out again

we are all touched by
the objects that surround us
the moon outside
down the dark road

fragments
are always
around
leaves falling from a tree
petals from a flower
red and brilliant
turn to ground
here in the middle of the woods

when did you stop
creating
in the present
and
being
in the presence of a presence

are all poems written to someone
are all songs sung to somebody
or is it like fishing in a dark pond

the music
your voice
the time it takes
to make it whole

what if the dead have a hierarchy
and restricted enclaves
what if there is a “social” order
and dead souls are competitive

I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop
way down
I toss and turn inside
So do you

There are a lot of peaks
and valleys

in the sand Great pyramids stand
Out in the street it’s the sound of intense rhythmic music from a car

In my head it’s the visions
that flash by quickly
of all our times on earth