Afternoon of May 23, 2026

 

Paper Fish

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

Life’s a garden 

So dig it

Sunlit sky

~Sarah Mahina Calvello 

midori cocktail 

the neon-green hue

of my alienness

~Jackie Chou

waxing crescent moon 

posting photos of myself 

at my thinnest 

~Jackie Chou

Song of Songs 

Singing with singing to other singing walks the song, or is it the here or is it the there who walks

and comes and thithers.

~John Vlachos

Pigeons and Condors

A precious mockery of some such ritual, when today suddenly disappears in the exclamations of

pigeons and the screeches of condors.

~John Vlachos

ferryman

the cost to cross

the blood-brain barrier

~Cynthia Anderson

séance

the deceased dictates

a Yelp review of

the funeral home

~John J. Dunphy

Memorial Day

a veteran

who survived combat

now dead

from suicide

~John J. Dunphy

sleepy village—

dawn light touches

a fading moon


~Subhash Roy Choudhury

shutter slit 

just enough

sun wakes me

~Maya Daneva

No Heights

Must be

T     H     I     S

brave

to enter country.

~Chad Parenteau

butterfly wings

so fragile

our democracy

~Jan Stretch

meltwater

the trickle-down effect

of my pain 

~Kirsten Cliff Elliot

moonset fly-tipping my silent migraine

~Kirsten Cliff Elliot

Bach to the future the organist’s striped socks

~Cynthia Anderson

hitting the bottom of this small talk

~Maya Daneva

what this tulip hides first bee

~Maya Daneva

spring yoga the day is stretching out

~Maya Daneva

palm reading so tangled my lines

~Mona Iordan

moonshadows falling into new craters

~Patricia Hawkhead

 

under the covers scars that can’t be heard

~Patricia Hawkhead

 

sunset carving shadows in stone

~Patricia Hawkhead

rising up to swallow a star sickle moon

~Tejendra Sherchan 

stop killing each other for Pete's sake

~dan smith

Afternoon of May 18, 2026

office day 

leaving myself

on mute

~thomas david

spores of the earth

pulsing in starbursts

—prayer path

~Goran Gatalica

cosmography—

I am lost

among the words

~Goran Gatalica

war memories—

hail pinging off

the windshield

~Goran Gatalica

A sleeping angle of torturous stories and reprimands, the last of cares and worries stored in the I

Cloud.

~John Vlachos

Scripted 

To be of responding kisses, throwing all that you know of life in an obsequious transition, a terse

reminder of the scripted conversations that walk with a limp.

~John Vlachos

slow blinking

with my cat

we say I love you

~Jennifer Gurney

a quiet voice

this patch of sun

the cat likes

~Anne Fox

midnight moon

my demons and I

greet the day

~Anne Fox

Variations in exactness 

~Sarah Mahina Calvello

temple offering —

those eyes lock into mine

before its head is chopped

~Rupa Anand

my wife tells me I'm exhibiting

pre-industrial sleep patterns

~Patrick Sweeney

rainy dawn

the petro-chemical scent

of home

~Patrick Sweeney 

Afternoon of May 16, 2026

 

Election after election 

Election after election.

Will the shadows in a queue reach their destination? 

~Patha Sarkar

Three witches
 

Three witches of Time-

Past, Present and future.

~Partha Sarkar

Thought from 13th March 2023, otherwise untitled

To some extent I think it's true that we walk the path we walk one foot after the other and the

next foot starts moving before we've finished telling it not to. To some extent, I think it's true.

~Lewis Leverett

anxiety—

learning to live with

the stranger in me

~Mona Bedi

Flowers 

a dash of colour

moss hides the words

~Graeme Needham

hanging by a single hook

the widower's

address sign

~Patrick Sweeney

he didn't need any mnemonic induction

to trip off to other realms

~Patrick Sweeney

accepting the 'will of heaven'

doesn't mean you can't change

the position of the fan

~Patrick Sweeney

empty diner

the scent of grease humming

with a ceiling fan

~Melissa Dennison

 

 

white splashes

in the garden...

a pigeon's abstract art

~Melissa Dennison

A quandary 

Of thems and selves and sips and numbers rounding up their lives, measured into precise

compartments of knickknacks and tea things.

~John Vlachos

doomed friendship 

you were minimalistic,

i am avant-garde;

perhaps the friendship

was doomed from the

beginning. 

~linda m. crate

New moon

Unfinished 

But complete 

~Sarah Mahina Calvello