the sound
of November-December
whoosh
~Jennifer Gurney
endless
stratus
clouds
rolling
in
worry
about
my
root
canal
~Joshua St. Claire
fate
of the dandelion
growing out of rocks
~Tejendra Sherchan
high tea
Vivaldi
plays through the cracks
in the universe
~Joshua St. Claire
tattered trainers
the secrets
you could tell
~Melissa Dennison
the egg moon
I will boil and share it
with eight billions
~Tejendra Sherchan
not yet returned all the stolen hearts
~Tejendra Sherchan
the smoker moth
~Tejendra Sherchan
Why
why did you choose me, my soul
why did you choose me to live
~Marie Derley
In The Time of Corporate Plague
water and light
now company owned
people figuratively and literally
being daily deboned
murmurs of time
ache to be heard
no calm in the mirrors
all the lines blurred
silent mental erosion
of blind civil obedience
~dan smith
Zombies Flee the Scene
hearses!
foiled again!
undead get away
~John H. Dromey
nothingness
the universe
bang
~Jennifer Gurney
big bang —
the hole punch
spills its contents
~Helen Buckingham
Folksong
after Else Lasker-Schüler
The wild wind knows
it’s the sky’s favorite child.
Its curls are sun-yellow,
its intentions are mild.
Each day is a day.
My parents are gone.
The wind plays on their graves.
It
sings them no song.
~Noah Berlatsky
gone gone gone —
the black cat’s shadow
on the grass
~Pris Campbell
the new Oz show
is carried on the backs
of snake oil salesmen
into the While House.
on cue, the audience applauds.
~Pris Campbell
saying
her piece
the booyah
across seven seas
~A.J. Anwar
haiku
the extent
of her bio
~A.J. Anwar
childhood Santa photos
I finally find one where
I'm not crying
~John J. Dunphy
luminous glyphs
scrolling down
his firm midsection
~Richard Magahiz
in his later years
Adam's
cider addiction
~Richard Magahiz
herbaceous border
a sign to
curb your dragon
~Richard Magahiz
holes chewed through old holes: hyperspace worms
~Richard Magahiz
in 30s gangster movies
nobody practices
personal space
~Patrick Sweeney
he was learning to play what wasn't there
~Patrick Sweeney
yielding to the futility of helping an autumn fly escape
~Patrick Sweeney
resisting the ideological cul de sac
and the personification
of hurricanes
~Patrick Sweeney
Lose the way
to home?
Ask cul-de-sac.
~Partha Sarkar
You mean to tell me this is how you intend spending your time on Earth?
~Patrick Sweeney
best not to mention the extra-dimensional deer paths that run behind the house
~Patrick Sweeney
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