A Parallel Uni-Verse
Inside Winter: Three Haiku
By Farnham Blair
All locked doors challenge
our passage. None holds faster
than winter to spring.

Snow is the stranger
who lurks at the gate until
the sun’s back is turned.

We see what we wish.
How much desire will give us
black trees turning green?


Farnham Blair lives in Blue Hill, Maine. His books include Immanent Green: Poems and Peripheral Visions: Memoirs of a Washington Childhood.
Men who burned islands
for sheep to graze
became farmers
haying the salt marsh
with long wooden rakes.
Two in a photograph
look prosperous.
The loads of straw
poised on their shoulders
mid-air like suns.

Lichen hides an eye.
Cut in stone
Brothers, ‘lost at sea’

After storms, some
walk the shore path
seeking salvage.


Donald Wellman's recent book The Cranberry Island Series is based on his summer experiences in the Cranberry Isles in Maine. He is a translator and a professor of humanities at Daniel Webster College in New Hampshire.
Prolog: The Cranberry Island Series (excerpt)
By Donald Wellman

Rust alighted on my tongue with the taste of a disappearance.
Forgetting penetrated my tongue and I had no recourse but to forget

and I accepted no value other than impossibility.
Like a calcified boat in a country from which the sea has receded,
I listened to the surrendering of my bones being deposited in rest,
I listened to the flight of insects and the retraction of the shadow on
entering what was left of me;
I listened until truth ceased to exist in the space or in my spirit,
and I was unable to resist the perfection of silence.


Donald Wellman's recent book The Cranberry Island Series is based on his summer experiences in the Cranberry Isles in Maine. He is a translator and a professor of humanities at Daniel Webster College in New Hampshire.
Opening lines of Description of the Lies
By Donald Wellman