Afternoon of October 20, 2024

 

Poet Empty Bottle

~Michael Lee Johnson




ugh

go away

mirror

go away

ugh

~Noah Berlatsky




In Praise of Wooden Shoes or Where's a Luddite When You Need One

~dan smith




self-employed no one to complain to

~Stacy Taylor




we are the movies at God's multiplex

~dan smith




my eye-hops on her textual surface around the target words

~Vijay Prasad




68 years old

and don’t feel a day

over 67

~Stacy Taylor




Origami


If my paper hen could lay eggs,

how would the eggs be folded?

~Marie Derley




Hands


Guts in one,

the weight of the world

in the other.

So much to bear.

So much to feel.

Fingers twitching,

nails clawing.

Flesh against flesh.

Is this what a grip is for?

~R James Sennett Jr




shorter nights

little space for shooting stars

at our age

~John Hawkhead




we built gigantic engines

we travelled to the moon

we misunderstood Waste Not

~dan smith





if it's true

what Christians say

I'm going to hell

~Barbara Anna Gaiardoni




mending an old quilt

each night’s sleep cycle

a little deeper

~John Hawkhead




shine on

forty-foot cowboy

exit now

~David C. Kopaska-Merkel




foggy shore . . . 

memory’s silence

eroding my belief

in goodbyes

~Timothy Daly




Photon


Because the soul is light, scurrying from point to shadow,

because light can fracture if interrupted—

because the fracturing of light is accomplished by hanging 

a simple glass charm from the curtain rail above my kitchen sink—

I think of you, driving down the mountain, the long, straight

road from map-point to city, your dashboard charm swinging,

your headlight fractured, your mirror cracked.

~Kathryn Reese




subglacial lake

the gelatinous maw

everts

~David C. Kopaska-Merkel





unedited


I want to say love me


love my text,

consider converting


all the selfies

on my dating profile

to screenshots of poems.

~Kathryn Reese




blind date

she looks for

a way

to let him

down gently

~Randy Brooks




any old pot

of coffee

I drink it

on ice

the day after

~Randy Brooks




don’t think

of a monkey

too late

~Randy Brooks

 


No comments:

Post a Comment