Afternoon of March 12, 2023

the ruined embouchure of the dented tea kettle

~Patrick Sweeney

no contact drop off    in a lonely world

~Patrick Sweeney

daughter points to where Mount Fuji should be

~Patrick Sweeney

my rescue opera    two syllables

~Patrick Sweeney

 years spent    in the biographical subtext of fictional selves

~Patrick Sweeney

burning leaves

I wonder about

my soul

~John Pappas

on his boots

another county’s mud

spring offensive

~John Pappas

 

old polaroids a trip through thensylvania 

~John Pappas

night rain whispering all my faults

~John Pappas

 

late night thoughts

the hum

of the microwave

~John Pappas

from the pages

of a play

starlings

~John Pappas

 

sunflowers a correlation between brown rice and madness

~Kelly Moyer

despair accountable only to the toad

~Kelly Moyer

 

 

uncommon poetics buried with the bubble tea

~Kelly Moyer

breadcrumbs a far cry from the fairy tale

~Kelly Moyer

Evening of March 11, 2023

The Word Thieves

They came to our village

and carried off our words

in steel boxes wrapped in chains.

We were given new words,

but we cannot use them.

They taste like dirt in our mouths,

and do not mean what we need to say.

~Joseph Farley

Easter

in my neighbor's yard

surrounded by plastic eggs

rabbit ears

from an old TV

~John J. Dunphy

summer storm

he calls me

by another name

~Mona Bedi

It took me all day

to do nothing.

I could have

stayed in bed

to accomplish

just as much.

~Nolcha Fox

skirmish

gray squirrels battle in the dawn

balanced on a telephone wire

the definition of victory and loss

seems a tough nut to crack

~Joseph Farley

the when how and what of my thoughts

~Mona Bedi

the unseen cage I live in dandelion fluff

~Mona Bedi

 

Afternoon of March 8, 2023

moonquiver not a diagnosis but a disposition

~Kelly Moyer

Remember when the

Cassette tape would come undone and

a pencil fixed it?

~Jennifer Gurney

True confession time

I hate to admit it, but

I am not perfect

~Jennifer Gurney

haybales a quack in the porkbelly moon

~Kelly Moyer

escaping from the chimney ladyfingers

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

 

deflowered the deep kiss of dirty pennies

~Kelly Moyer

a minute

passes from you

to me

~Shasta Hatter

under an umbrella

the rain carries

his words away

~Wai Mei Wong 

 

 

Afternoon of March 6, 2023

wear and tear

the guarantee has expired

on this life

~Wanda Amos

harvest moon

a muskrat busts out

the ouija board

~Kelly Moyer

family photos

everyone dead

even the living

~Ellen Kom

past the brightest star

a left turn takes you

beyond footprints

~Linda L Ludwig

petrichor all the rage with the worms

~Kelly Moyer

the steam of hot exchange tea stall

~Bidyut Prabha Gantayat

jotting notes

on the old book

I buy a new diary

as if I'll be inspired

to write again

~Christina Chin / M. R. Defibaugh

Six-Word Life Memoir

 

Signals worn due to self-hatred.

~Dan Provost

To Ti Esti

 

If words were sheep,

I’d shear them,

then writhe

to the music

of their naked bleating.

~Kelly Moyer

When water-birds walk

their feet fold

so that the two outer toes

touch.

~Noah Berlatsky

So disappointing

To get an invitation

After the event

~Jennifer Gurney

Evening of March 2, 2023

 sea anemones

the girl in the aquarium

fingers her hair

~Keith Evetts

      a tisket a tasket

  we’re off to buy a casket

 my mother died my father cried

      a tisket a tasket

  we need another casket

~Ellen Kom

remember why they're called forget-me-nots?

~Keith Evetts

Items on the Menu

I keep poems in a box so they will not get away.

I write them and throw them in there, let them pile up.

When they are ripe or rotten I take them out,

type them up, or throw them away.

Its the same with what I send to publishers:

trash in the mail or trash at the curb.

Sometimes only rats and raccoons can appreciate

what is on my mind, and find the treasures

hidden in the muck, ready for digestion.

~Joseph Farley

for ukraine


inside a doll

another doll

another doll

inside a doll

Babushka

~Rupa Anand

evening shadows if I'm not mistaken

~Keith Evetts

Those tiny little

Hairs on the back of your neck

After each haircut

~Jennifer Gurney

No Prophet in It

I never meant

to save the world.

I never meant

to destroy it.

I only wanted

to be here a while

and watch the mountains

move towards the sea.

~Joseph Farley

back room

of the library

haiku

~Keith Evetts

Anti-Haiku

Nature does not

bend to pen,

instead smashes

against home,

ten-year-old windows

buckle under gusts.

Forced endings

are for the weak.

~Chad Parenteau

The Internet’s Forever Until It Isn’t 

 

Someday this will be what’s left of me.

Bytes on servers flickering;

dreary blogs that burp and settle like bogs

drawn on a whiteboard, 

devolving PowerPoint.

 

The internet is forever until it isn’t.

Skin-colored, ten-limbed creatures flop and breed

clacking nowhere chattering.

A friable ghost is lost

when you turn it off, or off.

~Noah Berlatsky

Poem

In the future,

everyone realizes

how badly

they screwed up

twenty years prior.

~Chad Parenteau

 

~Keith Evetts