Afternoon of April 27, 2023


she never sung to console

but took us to hilltops

to scream

~Lisa C Reynolds

the striking complexity in the syntax of the pathological liar

~Patrick Sweeney

bee stings and asteroids in the vocabulary of boys

~Patrick Sweeney

he had the look of a man who was sent out to play in thunderstorms

~Patrick Sweeney

she twirls

her fork spaghetti

for the win

~Naomi G. Tangonan

she whispered: samsara is the most beautiful word

~Patrick Sweeney

only say Tochigi and my soul will be healed

~Patrick Sweeney

just remembering

from the stone age

spin tirelessly

greedy cutting down recklessly

and the flood hit

~Nani Mariani

white trash

on the ground

the morning after

a cross-burning

singed KKK robes

~John J. Dunphy

communal riots —

the same sun

shines on us

~Debarati Sen

Deep in unnamed forests, deadly new

plagues mutate from beast to man, a rear

guard action to revenge their lost habitats

as we throw pennies at dying species or

jail them in our zoos.

~Janet Stotts

stale breakfast —

mom’s eye bags

wait for a rainbow

~Debarati Sen

water hazard

its ice cracked

by a golf ball

~John J. Dunphy


boardwalk park

taking pictures

a squirrel stops

to stare at the nut

~Christina Chin / M. R. Defibaugh

Past midnight

too late to write

a good poem.

~Noah Berlatsky

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