If the writers featured in the spring 2009 edition of SHARK REEF didn’t write fifty drafts of their work, at least they kept at it until their work shone like polished stones. As you read these offerings, you’ll notice,

Clever sleep, hiding under my pillow, under the bed
I turn and toss, plowing the sheets, turning over the turf
of the day while pocketing seeds that resemble slumber
like words and thoughts for a poem to sow through

A couple of blown-out motorcycle guys:
Paunches leading,
Park their Harleys,
Slouch.

A never-ending skirmish was our version of a feuding David and Goliath, right-vs.-might, old-timer versus newcomer, downscale versus upscale conflict, guaranteed to make Dollar Island’s Gossip Hall of Fame.

I am in the midst of a love affair with Montana. I didn’t see it coming, as so often is the case with middle-agers. We drift into these close-to-the-heart relationships and, somewhere along the way, knee deep in delight and longing, we consider radical thoughts

Keith broke the water gasping, exhilarated. ‘A ten!’ he thought and swam toward the pool’s edge. He watched another diver enter. An eight. For a moment he bobbed at the edge.

On days when rain
sews earth to sky
I stand at my window
and watch it fall sodden
leaden to the ground.

All my life I have had this recurring dream. It’s late at night and I’m running across a field during a lightening storm. My mom and dad and my brothers are with me. And lightening is exploding all around us. Everyone knows to lay down on the grass. Everyone, but me.