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conspiracy
theories . . .
spi (c) es
in the corner cabinet
~Barrie
Levine
aurora
… your ephemeral moods
~Wanda Amos
now
was before
~Mykyta Ryzhykh
I am weary
all this
alone time
~Jennifer Gurney
prison poet
his best work composed
in
solitary
~John J. Dunphy
little white lies
the pigeon in my story
changed
to a dove
~Jackie Chou
lost tooth
rebelieving in fairies
in
middle age
~Jackie Chou
flapping away
with my daydream
from above
the shadow of a raven
as
black as its croak
~Jackie Chou
onions
the way he slices
my
heart
~Mohua Maulik
I'm glad you have stories not to tell,
someone something to protect,
a relationship you can build.
Away from the shadows
full of hope
to find
pure
joy.
~Keith Snow
Horror Story
I am
just sitting here
when the clutter
comes
back
~Noah Berlatsky
& if lakes formed when angels cried,
the world is sure to drown —
for her eyes were pointed towards the sky,
&
yet she still looked down.
~naomi olivia
Now I Get It
When I ask
what does it mean...
this poem in The New Yorker,
he says, It's postmodern
and when I ask what does
postmodern mean, he says that
a poem doesn't have to mean,
it
just has to be.
~Gloria Parker
Stirring
the rice pot
Calming routine
~Sarah Mahina Calvello
university class
final exam interrupted
by
gunshots
~John J. Dunphy
keening sirens
and a ten-year stretch
of
insomnia
~Patrick Sweeney
no thought for the superficial cephalic
in
the placement of his magpie tattoo
~Patrick Sweeney
she wants him to say it in his head
and
leave it there
~Patrick Sweeney
sixty-three years later,
silverfish
under the white wicker hamper
~Patrick Sweeney
gathering dust
in the corner
her
self esteem
~Wanda Amos
night table
a haiku written
in
its dust
~John J. Dunphy
a December day
I experience
its abrupt end
~Tejendra Sherchan
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