Afternoon of July 19, 2024






~Dennis Andrew Aguinaldo






the wood sucker...

craftily clamping itself on

crawls up a tree

~Tejendra Sherchan




~Roberta Beach Jacobson

rotting log

the professor’s list

of exhausted forms

~John Pappas

some rotting turnip

the wireworm

counts the hours

~Richard Magahiz

ninety foot tulip

a pre-fab home

in its shade

~Richard Magahiz

just 2% pregnant

the ka rushes

back in

~Richard Magahiz

everything those souls

said, thought, did -

Gone. Gone. Gone.

~Richard Magahiz

"Cooking for One"

I add a book to

my divorce gift registry

~John J. Dunphy

without my glasses

can’t find the glasses I dropped

till I step on them

~James Penha

Spirit Walk

he steps out

as I step in

no one in the house

no one on the street

~David C. Kopaska-Merkel

asking me

what’s in your womb


~Roberta Beach Jacobson


seeking renewal

in silence

~Olinda Ninolakis

out of our jurisdiction shooting stars

~John Pappas

you’ll find me in fiction dusking snow

~John Pappas

back after these messages assassination nation

~John Pappas

Afternoon of July 15, 2024


Behind the colourful city

~Ah-young Dana Park

Geese line

the volleyball

sand pit.

They are


their weekend

ahead of


~Beth Gulley

the monsoon rain

resurrects a dry river—

giant snake

~Tejendra Sherchan


there is riversong

I am not alone

~Jennifer Gurney

assassination attempt

sniper and photographer

both shooting

~John J. Dunphy

the Wu Wei of showing a fly the door

~Patrick Sweeney

we were only told to stay off the third rail

~Patrick Sweeney

I and I by and by one world

~dan smith

he had the wrong head for this century

~Patrick Sweeney

And at last

And at last,

At the end of the play,

The small fries are killed.

~Partha Sarkar

circling between buildings

the hawk swoops

a white plastic bag

~Padma Rajeswari Tata

there were many golden bracelets & robes

purple-perfumed, ornate trinkets

before they turned to war trophies

~Fhen M.

A signal far from the soul

The stagnancy in the afternoon.

No positive human touch in the journey.

I listen only to the birds, the rustling

And a signal far from the soul

A green flute played by the tree.

Move on my brightest thoughts towards the evening.

A night with the fairytale lulls me to sleep

I am prepared to run tomorrow.

~Partha Sarkar

My Pigeon Feet

are moved by pain and joy.

Damp soils cake the yard

as paled bones extend past vines –

growing, searching, feeling.

They feel the warmth of the doormat,

resting their soles under blankets of wood.

Nails kneading away at the intricate texture,

My pigeon feet prance around in butterfly steps.

As Grandmother likes to call them,

loving, searching, feeling.

~Sigrid Kim

he was the kind of guy who felt the pains of the world coming up through the soles of his Hush Puppies

~Patrick Sweeney

he showed off his new crown in the middle of the fish fry

~Patrick Sweeney

child's art

on her father's car

screwdriver markings

~Tuyet Van Do

the Pompeii fresco could be any poet

the pixelated boy could be me

reminiscing what was beautiful & pure.

~Fhen M.

Diversity in One

~Ah-young Dana Park

Afternoon of July 13, 2024

first senryu

a flea lands between

fragment & phrase

~Cezar Ciobica

I wanted my legs

to take me somewhere else.

But the cat sat on them.

That has to be good enough.

~Noah Berlatsky

Nepal Idol

a tailorbird’s monsoon wail

subdues him

~Tejendra Sherchan

polluting our planet assigned gender balloons

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

a bob-weave

for the camera


~Roberta Beach Jacobson

safety pins

and stardust

Ziggy, Iggy

Hoagy and Bix

~dan smith


At birth, when the doctor slapped me,

I yawned, I haven't caught up since

I work night shift. I'm so tired I take a nap

before I go to bed.

When I wake up, the bags under my eyes have bags, have bags...

~Keith Snow

foster care child

her third home

this year

~John J. Dunphy

Echoes of You

Your singing has become my alarm,

karaoke, blasting songs in the shower as I desperately cover my ears.

I would wave hi to your friends, me an old grandma,

trying to be cool.

Your 3 shades of lip gloss, never-matching pairs of socks,

and pink backpack covered in grass can always be spotted around our house,

Leaving a trail like Hansel and Gretel back to your room.

But now I wake up to silence, a spotless room

where nothing covers the carpet, and a dry, empty shower.

Maybe I miss those loud mornings.

~Karen Lee

bamboo thicket

behind the high school

scattered bones

~David C. Kopaska-Merkel


Pinocchio fell victim

to the wood beetles' lust;

dust spurting from a myriad adits,

he collapsed at his father's door,

but that is not dead, etc; automaton,

wayward robot carved from wood,

he rose again, riddled with scars,

but a real boy at last.

~David C. Kopaska-Merkel

cautiously a lizard

crosses the road...

run over frog beside

~Tejendra Sherchan


Is there no one who truly cares for me?

I can see the stars all the way from here

Shining just the way I like

I have faith in what I see

I feel your whisper across the sea

Another moment passing by

It’s okay, we’re the best of friends

~Olivia Park

Grass Routes to Victory

tennis match psychic

predicts Wimbledon winner

net prophet

~John H. Dromey

along train route

hidden messages

in spray-painted curves

~Patricia Carragon







to aging wounds

~Andrew Buckner

flagpole without a flag

a national anthem without singers

~Fhen M.

a rose is a rose

a house is a house

logic is an interesting subject

~Fhen M.


an ugly feeling

comfort but no answers

a powerful hug

but brittle future

~Rae Greenwood

This Is Where

This is where an innocent man visited,

stuck with thoughts, considerations, and feelings

This is where many face edges and nails through their skins

Screaming in excruciating pain

This is where one’s item disappears from their car in a minute

This is where one can lose oneself after touching a dollar on the street

This is where red is the color that is seen the most everywhere

This is where many want homes

This is where street food is common

This is where cheering is scarce

~Sean Kim

My superpower

is getting

out of bed

~Nolcha Fox

My Night

Fog patches

Occasional drizzle

Occasional pain

Very poor at times

0330 now rising


Becoming very rough

or high later

~Ann Smith

a flea crushed at the end of dad's death poem

~Cezar Ciobica


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