Afternoon of December 18, 2022

drifting clouds

after all these years

my father’s handwriting

~John Pappas

eye to eye

we meet

in silence

~Katherine E Winnick

cinnamon tea

the past comes

to life again

~Barbara Anna Gaiardoni

Catharsis

The day you left, I threw up

stardust and wildflowers,

big fat gulf oysters,

zydeco and Chicago blues.

Just when I thought

I was empty,

out came a sprig

of baby’s breath, stilled

on the journey out to sea.


~Kelly Moyer

scratched vinyl a degenerative disc disease


~Kelly Moyer

buried in the footnotes a half-remembered smile

~John Pappas

unicorn hunting a three-way potato

~Kelly Moyer

the art of loving an oil-based pigment

~Kelly Moyer

now when she writes a love letter I

~John Pappas

rotten apples

eliciting

an inspirational quote

~Kelly Moyer

and everything smells like rotting meat

~Barbara Anna Gaiardoni

the squirrel

playing chicken

on the road

one too many

— times

~Linda L Ludwig

em dash

the crows fly in

to roost

~John Pappas

for once

in this poem

a crow is just a crow

~John Pappas

low-country christmas

the warmth

of a biscuithead kitten

~Kelly Moyer

night cry

the tendrils of

a shredded star

~John Pappas

of myself a sliver of ginger root or moonshadow

~Kelly Moyer

at the base

of the shrine

the prayer of ants

~John Pappas