Morning of February 21, 2024

 

THE WRITER IN HIS GARRET

thank God

for pen and paper

without them

I might have to go

talk with somebody

~John Grey

Bluefused

You creep out of the icebox,

blue-rimmed cube,

reminiscing drop kerplunks,

the aerial dance of sea and sky.

Now you’re squarely

out of circulation.

~Nolcha Fox

inevitable split infinitive inevitable

~John Hawkhead

stone hard ground yet still we pass through

~John Hawkhead

hairs on my neck

static electricity

before the first strike

~Jennifer Gurney

I can hear you breathe

in the pin-drop quiet of

the test-taking classroom

~Jennifer Gurney

I miss

newspaper ink on my fingers

every morning

~Jennifer Gurney

hitchhiker

should be more careful

bloody thumbprint

~David C. Kopaska-Merkel

shouting

over the BUZZZZ

cicada year

~David C. Kopaska-Merkel

skipping stones litter the cracked lake bed

~David C. Kopaska-Merkel

Then He Made A Noise

marsh

slog

mud suck

hips submerged

waders filling up

something noses behind my knee

~David C. Kopaska-Merkel