Afternoon of November 4, 2025

Green Head




reaching across

uncanny valley

from the wrong side

~Nicholas De Marino




Obstruct My Vision

 

Through a cracked lens

I know him, truly.

Pedestal man

So close, I see

Appalling beauty

Others mistake.

~Emily Keverne




Stall the Dawn

 

One sheep… two sheep… treesheep… feep…

Lethargic, but I cannot sleep.

I try to make a game and keep

Awake, to lure the Sandman’s creep

But, though I’m tired enough to weep

The night succeeds.

~Emily Keverne




Tiger, Tiger


Burn. As the Man churns

Timber from your forestry.

Burn, burn prettily.

~Emily Keverne




slipping on black ice masks

~John Hawkhead




roar...(p)atriarchal (m)edical (s)tudies

~Pegah Rahmati Nezhad




third time today

resisting the urge

to quote Kris Kristofferson

~Patrick Sweeney




war everywhere

and I'm writing about nobody noticing

my one blue sock

~Patrick Sweeney




Snow From Snow

 

The snow 

covers up 

all the places

where my dad was.

 

Then it grows wings

and is not there.

~Noah Berlatsky




Perspective

 

From this angle the cat

Is very large and orange.

 

From some angles she is less orange.

From all angles she is large.

~Noah Berlatsky




fly in the ointment...

guess I'm stuck with you

~Mark Meyer




backhanded compliment she calls me pluperfect

~Mark Meyer




death bed

no less

a fool

~M. R. Pelletier




"social" media

the lie

we tell ourselves

~M. R. Pelletier




first frost 

field mice

raid the root cellar

~Belinda Behne




The Dream of Art

 

I dream I am in the house of a famous artist.

I cannot leave because I cannot find my shoes.

I search for hours but I cannot find my shoes.

 

I need better dreams.

~Noah Berlatsky




Day of the Dead

no different

doomscrolling

~Helen Buckingham




Return home


Return home safely dead before cremation.

~Partha Sarkar




Milky Way hosting

four hundred billion planets

still we are alone

~Tejendra Sherchan




billboard moon

she crams civilization

into a gas station rubbish bin


~Joshua St. Claire




hypochondria

I wonder what kind of flower

I’ll be

~Joshua St. Claire




the once when orange was a color but not a scent

~Joshua St. Claire