Poetry selection from the 2012 issue
by James Dickson
Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter.
Windows rolled down in his crappy
old Honda, the heavy metal kid
holds concert. The car’s tinny speakers
try to outscream him as tattooed
arms fly, pounding steering wheel
and invisible cymbals.
His audience continues crossing,
making their protected left turns,
glancing through their tightly
raised windows at the dangerous
wonder of his song.