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Grey Sparrow Journal and Press, as of January 31, 2018 will move to

Issue 30, July 31, 2017
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Under a canopy of starshine we glance around us,

awed by the cosmic bravura, hushed by darkness,

and we are open to dreaming of a world

where humility is clothed in triumph

and goodwill crowned with success;

where all have eyes to recognize

the universe as a masterstroke, not a happenstance;

where every dawn is a blessing, every dusk a benediction.


Craning moonward, dazzled by the perigee,

we imagine the grand mesh of lives

of which we were chosen to form a small part,

and upon spotting leopard spoors we ponder legacies,

our minds wafting into otherwheres,

our gapes penetrating firelight

as we abandon ourselves to abyssal thoughts

that close the day and wear away the night.


                                           —Brandon Marlon




Stars Usher Evening


Stars usher evening gracefully to the fore,

heralding night’s dim majesty,

a signal gesture of elegance

encouraging our own high regard.


Aswarm with stars freckling the heavens,

pausing the timescape,

the firmament mesmerizes

lowly witnesses privileged to behold

streaming comets and caroming meteors.


Silenced by the celestial panoply,

we strain to glimpse ethereal flourishes,

masterful whorls and curlicues

of unrivaled variety and rarity,

the spellbinding scrollwork of a force

beyond mortal reckoning, a cosmic alembic

wilting arrogance and grievance,

effacing the inconsequential,

inspiring an elusive ease and peace

somehow wholly foreign and intimately familiar.


                                                      —Brandon Marlon




Before Dawn



Nightfall offers a curious service

once the day’s urgent nonsense ends.

We who are acquainted with the night

recognize with fresh eyes

perspective and context,

new meanings of old moments,

the value of shared experience,

matters of lasting interest,

whether to remember and smile

or grimace in disgrace.


Night is the sojourn

when we devise and revise

upon considerable deliberation;

hooting owlets, too, grow wise after dark

in the clarity of obscurity,

by the glitter in the gloom.

Then we soothe the burden of hard pains;

then we speak with vigor and candor.


Beware the life unchecked by contemplation,

a day lacking its dusk.


                                      —Brandon Marlon