drifting clouds
after all these years
my
father’s handwriting
~John Pappas
eye to eye
we meet
in
silence
~Katherine E Winnick
cinnamon tea
the past comes
to
life
again
~Barbara Anna Gaiardoni
Catharsis
The day you left, I threw up
stardust and wildflowers,
big fat gulf oysters,
zydeco and Chicago blues.
Just when I thought
I was empty,
out came a sprig
of baby’s breath, stilled
on
the journey out to sea.
~Kelly
Moyer
scratched
vinyl a degenerative disc disease
~Kelly
Moyer
buried
in the footnotes a half-remembered smile
~John Pappas
unicorn
hunting a three-way potato
~Kelly Moyer
the
art of loving an oil-based pigment
~Kelly Moyer
now
when she writes a love letter I
~John Pappas
rotten apples
eliciting
an
inspirational quote
~Kelly Moyer
and
everything smells
like
rotting
meat
~Barbara Anna Gaiardoni
the squirrel
playing chicken
on the road
one too many
— times
~Linda
L Ludwig
em dash
the crows fly in
to roost
~John
Pappas
for once
in this poem
a
crow is just a crow
~John Pappas
low-country christmas
the warmth
of
a biscuithead kitten
~Kelly Moyer
night cry
the tendrils of
a
shredded star
~John Pappas
of
myself a sliver of ginger root or moonshadow
~Kelly Moyer
at the base
of the shrine
the
prayer of ants
~John Pappas