Dashboard Horus: A Bird's Eye View of the Universe

  A much-published bi-national immigrant, gardener, Bonsai-grower, painter, Jennifer M Phillips has lived in five states, two countries, and now, with gratitude, in Wampanoag ancestral land on Cape Cod, Massachusetts. Phillips' chapbooks are: Sitting Safe In the Theatre of Electricity ( iblurb.com , 2020), A Song of Ascents (Orchard Street Press, 2022), and Sailing To the Edges (Finishing Line Press, forthcoming 2025) . Phillips had two poems nominated for this year's Pushcart Prize. and is a 2024 finalist in the  Eyelands Book Competition, and Cutthroat's Joy Harjo Poetry contest. Her collection is Wrestling With the Angel (Wipf & Stock, 2024). Kasha Katuwe (Tent Rocks, ABQ, New Mexico) High country constant wind, soil long ago lifted and gone    and now even the red dust in migration. Hoodoos, the idols wind chisels for our admonishment    hat-stoned, a looming eerie supervision threatening to petrify us into virtue or at least  ...

  Liam "Lee" Balmeo is an emerging poet & activist. I.  You can feel it, can’t you? The ominousness present, on the sand. All around the hand that held life in its fingertips, the people in its grasp. But we know that something’s wrong, that offtone sensation of emptiness in our stomachs. The ocean and sand do not fall with the tides but follow the season’s games as clouds shelter the ones under its brow, caressing the ocean with its shadow. We smell the brine sweeter than its carcass, changed with the lips of Mother’s kiss while holding the gritty sand of pebbles spit unevenly across the ocean floor. The rocks have been turned by time and glazed with rough edges. They’ve been waiting—they’ve been longing for someone to set them free. The land and its living steer clear of this zone—but only the ones that can see it. Palm trees sway crooked in the raging winds because their limbs are removed in the form of delicate leaves; their shrubbery below has stolen the sunlight and...