Afternoon of April 8, 2023

 spring equinox coding the hillside for color

~John Pappas

she blooms

picks herself

~Sharon Ferrante


the garden

and me

~John Pappas

Lion roars in the savanna

at midnight, shushed

by sleeping llamas

and fire ants

~Peter A. Witt

she feels foggy

morning passes

through an iron gate

all she wants

is to become


~Sharon Ferrante

Off The Pot

Today is the day

Not tomorrow, but today

Procrastinating is over

Being too busy is done

Today I finish

Today it happens

Today . . . oh, I have a doctor's appointment

Oh, and all that shopping

Oh, my boss just sent me an email

Well, maybe tomorrow then

~Miguel Lampiris

praying to the woman who burned clothespins for warmth

~Patrick Sweeney

Another spring poem


but this one isn’t the same since

the doctor told me not to rake

old leaves, uncover flower beds


so I sit and look  at crocuses peeking out

from winter-worn patches of ground

dead leaves, laying flat, decayed


I think that I might lie down among

them – this spring just isn’t the same

~Julie A. Dickson

cherry petals nirvana's rate of exchange

~Patrick Sweeney

end of war

the dark side of moon

~Bidyutprabha Gantayat

Dandelions, pimples

hogwash, politics

damsels, butterscotch –

words that want nothing

to do with each other

~Peter A. Witt

nose of the goldfish pressed against the bag

~Patrick Sweeney

slipping into echo fish flop

~John Pappas

from the factory to the sea green screams

~John Pappas

April Fools' Day

I break an Easter egg

dyed raw

~John J. Dunphy

When you are a cat

the world past the window

is filled with things

that might be birds.

~Noah Berlatsky

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