by Sid Gold

Once more the viewer is overwhelmed by the force of the applied paint. The Count was disliked even by those who won from him at cards. As a youth, Paul studied with Hillel’s grandson Gamaliel. We should head due north of somewhere we’ve never been, she whispered. A plastic pink flamingo requires very little maintenance. The joy of two rivers meeting in a delta. Nearly half of Manhattan’s population crowded into the slums beneath 14th Street. Car seats originally used horsehair & individually pocketed springs. I refuse to make sense after 5 o’clock, announced Natalie. Those assembled voted in favor of recycled content. A key is not a crucifix. A backpack is not an analgesic. Let us declare a lasting truce with the serpent within us. I really don’t know much about fluttering, Harry confessed. Alpha particles traverse only a few centimeters of air before coming to rest. The cave drawings of Altamira date from 12,000 B.C. Shortly afterward, Felicia entered wearing her best lemon meringue. Wood lice, insisted Morris loudly, are not insects. One must accept that no two turnips are alike. Not fear but fiend. Not flak but flake. Caffeine may be poisonous if consumed in large doses. A loyal squire was expected to ensure an honorable funeral for the deceased knight. The Egyptians called them Hapiru. Bread without butter. Bread without salt. Bread without bread. The soul throws its own shadow. Set free, the heart is a small hawk.

Sid Gold is the author of three full-length collections and a two-time recipient of a Maryland State Arts Council Individual Artist Award for Poetry. His poems have appeared recently in Free State Review, Innisfree Poetry Journal and Loch Raven Review, and are forthcoming in Backbone Mountain Review and Gargoyle. His fourth book, Crooked Speech (Pond Road Press), should appear late in 2017.