A Journal for Linking Poets  


Werner Reichhold
Jane Reichhold

Werner Reichhold
Jane Reichhold

Andrew Shimield
Diana Webb
Frank Williams
John Carley

Andre Surridge
Patricia Prime

Carl Brennan
Lewis Sanders

Carl Brennan
Lewis Sanders

Carl Brennan
Lewis Sanders

Patricia Prime

Andre Surridge


Werner Reichhold
Jane Reichhold
Employing my cat’s tail to dust off the printer
its tiny lighthouse signals “out of paper”
out of an arrested thought busted and checked for 
virtual fountains of older woods in progress  
now oil now liquid: 
a square of roots climbing intravenous heat.
Wasn’t the gray-haired driver seen in the software’s seat?
Two persons having the same dream calculating reality

thin singing
of one in love
the plucked
string vibrates
with another

gentle evening
madrigals chorus
of long-lost love
from the lute I find
the thrill of desire

Please, guidebook serve mapped help, show us the camels’ path to wells.
Shock stay away from comprehending what it may hold: a fata morgana.

I am flattered. I feel tongue-tied. I saw Moses’ basket floating by,
shades of faces not compatible with linear discoveries.

Read about fresh loans for a home if one buys in to an abounded child left
plus two pit bull puppies. All of the three Americans have equal chances.

the cat purrs a tune
just as old
accompanied by a stirring
below the belly's billow

coming inside
to a willing body's music
falling rain
arches over the dryness
as it enters a new life














a teacher wears
the face of years
folk wisdoms fluent
from fresh new mouths

entering dead mothers
the village maidens
resurrect lives as song

In the thrill of taking on a partner, both DNA tests show healthy solar plexus
and allergies for – damn - I forgot the angelic sequence.

Dining out - and then the uproar: the chewy part was a grilled Wolf’s brain.
Modifying joy, assuming the biography of a Queen salmon read aloud.

of a certain age
beyond caring
surprised by the intensity
of the simplest touch

a string quartet
pulls up so slowly
a heaviness
tied deep in a female body
feelings buried by the years

dripping – isn’t that stilled by the lilac’s blue? Spasms
of a verse-club counting moments netted in a wire’s red.
Tempted by Egyptian walls    the one relief I kissed
a secretary revealing papyrus blessed by a Nile of nymphs
steps worn out          stone after stone               worn in feet 


Werner Reichhold
Jane Reichhold


milk into night sky
            one way to go home

             turning loose
a herd of snowflakes
            the lover's lips unseen

tautly in us
a denial of waiting
                   are we mistaken
                  when they fly by
            honey webs of wings

a thousand stirring wings of organ-eyesed water
scrape and tarnish your hands to reveal in the cottonwoods

where you have a dark vision as you buy me coffee and muffins
the limits of consecutive grammar remain muted, even startled

strolling through the museum of rotted wood and dust
when we are changed into minnows within a river

for these reasons I reach across the knife point's voice
while the foolish greenhouses of women soak in cold milk

what we feed
the bacteria
they give back to us
on the right shoulder
a mattress blocks Hwy. 1
seen from my window it  rests as a large mountain with a few dragonflies 
over a pond is a light musical form pictured as a disturbed state of mind

the way you look in
hot spring’s waters
bubbles staring back at you

            the weight of Greg Venter
I am aware of genometry
                         taking another look



 the way it pesters you

the song              the alphabet

no virus found in this incoming message

the letter with it said they could not come even though the invitation was open-ended in an ecstasy derived by turning from this world to leaves sung in a birch's domed goldness rushing upward that drifts away with the plenitude of holidays which last only for an hour or two or three a day who is afraid about the other you who's with me, still some of life's mysteries can be solved by ampersands or the dots of ellipsis

her skin + art
in the Tokyo museum

their bones stiffen into skulls of roses as the boat
 of the blue one touches the red one's stomach

you lie down between two pillows of broken rhythms
reach to stroke a brow and press against your lover's face

automotive taillights, something that cups the plates the napkins
before realizing that other people also have emotions

clouded as if painted by El Greco such a baroque evening
when all the living fluids swirl within the hiding

every draft begins in serenity


river gulch
stretching amphibious bones
                        let’s get level

       swarms of aromatic vibs


Note: The two poems above are part of an experimental collaborative inter-genre poetry form. Instead of adding the new link (here the links are tanka or haiku sequences, ghazals, prose or graphic) at the end of the previous link, the new material is inserted into the middle (or a spot the author designates) of the previous link. This forces the poem to “open up” instead of simply getting longer. The work is to make sure the added poem links at both the beginning and at the end to the previous material so the poem remains as well linked in the second half as the first.



Andrew Shimield
Diana Webb
Frank Williams
John Carley

the morning jogger
puffs along
the redness of the rowan                    Andrew Shimield

here and there a thistle seed
still drifting                                         Diana Webb

just a few coins
in the beggar's bowl,
why the sudden grin?                         Frank Williams

superheroes queue
outside a phone box                          John Carley

a spoon of a moon
tickles the plumes
of June's monsoons                           AS

her new umbrella
about to unfold                                  DW

in a dream
the drunk wrestles
with his cardboard box                      FW

patching up the cracks
with instant ethics                              JEC

after the snowman
melts into the lawn
picking up his smile                           David Cobb

a pink ski jacket
for the trip to Aspen                          AS

together in the shower
the kissing of bruises
one by one                                        DW

her decree absolute
by a box of truffles                             FW

the humble cockroach
positively thrives
on DDT                                            JEC

a haze of chaff
over the moonlit field                         AS

amid baskets of fruit
an apocalyptic note
from the preacher                              DW

no sutra can reach
past the noise of jazz                         Taneda Santoka

all-night long
the drip drip dripping
of the bathroom tap                          FW

a sudden gust -
my ice cream spiked with sand          JEC

the mountain range
from thirty thousand feet
looks so small                                   AS

inner city ducklings
take the plunge                                  DW

mixed with the post
an elastic band
and some blossoms too!                   FW

here and there a paper boy
still grafting                                        JEC

Composed via email: 1 November –9 December, 2007
Participants: Frank Williams, Diana Webb, Andrew Shimield, John Carley (sabaki)
Introduced verses: David Cobb (Williams, with permission) Taneda Santoka (Carley. trans:
Yachimoto and Carley)



Andre Surridge
Patricia Prime

visiting circus
handing out flyers
a chimpanzee

a resounding crack
from the ring master’s whip
starts proceedings
beside me on the bench seat
a clown in an ape costume

all fingers and toes
girls on the trapeze
swing from a cross bar

a team of horses
with coloured head plumes
prance around the ring
to a marching song
bareback acrobats

the lion tamer
slips as he evades a claw
you clasp my hand

miniature dogs
jump through hoops
at the command
of a blow on a whistle
by their mistress in pink tights

in the front row
children eating ice cream –
their sticky hands

dressed as firemen put out
a flaming car
everyone gets soaked
including the ring master

mingled with smells
of animals and smoke


Carl Brennan
Lewis Sanders

Continuous fog...
at breakfast remembering
impatience with mom          

My mother's name – just there
by the honeysuckle                   

The stonemason's art –
Gregorian chant echoes
where gargoyles doze       

Strange voices
in the dark, my father's
sudden laughter               

Curly Joe haircuts w/goatees –
this long night's evil buffoons       

Fog in the hollow
my long midnight walk
by the creek                    


Carl Brennan
Lewis Sanders

Lilacs in bloom –
permeating the suburbs
of my scheduled binge      

Moonrise now above the trees
and the night birds’ song               

A lone bat flying
hypnotically – the ragged
spiral closing in                

Only in the moonlight
my lone shadow
crossing the field           

Red wine affords its courage –
approach the doppelganger         

In the mirror
myself remembering
youthful days gone by   



Carl Brennan
Lewis Sanders

Teaching the ants
a ferocious dance – poison
one cannot see                   

At the hospital: summer
sun and the lone cricket     

A drunkard plays Bach
on steel guitar – the pawnshop's
broken fans                                 

A crow winging
we talk of death
and boyhood days     

The flatscreen warms up – nymphs
frolicking without dresses                

First day of summer
my slow steps
slower now


Patricia Prime

Andre Surridge

Waihi Beach
on a white shell
striations of red
we sit on driftwood
among the holiday crowd

the sun
warming our bones
we take in the seascape
with a deeper breath

playing in a rock pool
sea anemones that close
tight round small fingers

incoming tide
a besieged sandcastle
crumbles . . .
sifting sand through toes
we talk about the past

beyond the cape
the outline
of another
in evening stillness
you and I dig for pipis

brighter than others
a southern star
far-off the sound
of the moonlit sea

along the bleached road
to the car park
we tread lightly as I take
the keys from your hand

in the car
I dream
the day again
fish & chips for supper



Submit your works to Lynx

Who We Are


Next Lynx is scheduled for October, 2008 .

Deadline is September 1, 2008.