Afternoon of March 24, 2023

Reason for Being

Your mittens are empty.

Oh, how they carry on 

in their desire 

for something (anything)

to give them purpose! 

So,

you fill them with pudding

(perhaps butterscotch),

and they believe they are

happy for a time.

~Kelly Moyer

sea shells sold by the sea shore—

late-stage capitalism

~petro c.k.

noon forever old VCR

~petro c.k.

midnight with eyes cat

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

draw the curtains

color the windows

with the clear crayon

~petro c.k.

faux fur

lying

around the neck

why choose

false rumors

cover

truth

all that is fake

is not

real

~Julie A. Dickson

Help Yourself to Another!

Futility is a chip

of the highest-quality

chocolate, baked

into a thin disc

of delusion

for your masticatory

pleasure, an expression

of the aggression

that drives 

each moment

of your unfortunate life.

~Kelly Moyer

Seedless

Forgive the woman

inside the watermelon.

How could she have

known

you were allergic

to the salt of her tears?

~Kelly Moyer

Ambi-Ants

Do you feel the way they open themselves 

to the music of the cosmos? 

How effortlessly they transform toil 

into surrender?

There is no hill.

       Only sanctuary.

~Kelly Moyer

blue jay flying off

in its feathers

a piece of sky

~Daniel Birnbaum

under the umbrella

her lips at reach

almost

~Daniel Birnbaum

people in the street

what do we have in common,

we can talk about

~Daniel Birnbaum

Evening of March 21, 2023

Libelous

The summer Sky told

the local newspaper

that she is my sister,

but I don’t eat

grapes for breakfast.

And, I’ve never been

anything . . .

akin to a proper noun.

~Kelly Moyer

Right on the Tip

No language is quick enough

to save a murdered thought—

you know how your word

dangles bleeding from a pole

when you need it in your jaws,

when you need it to be heard.

You have no way to get it

once it’s gone, no way

to pronounce it out loud

once it’s down and gone.

~Will Reger

writing

create, invent, make it

a little bent; real

but not too real,

fun but not humorous,

jokey but

serious

too

~Wayne F. Burke

fog 

trying to read my wife's 

handwriting 

~Devoshruti Mandal

At the Picnic

A bug is crawling down my neck 

With clicking claws and spikey beard. 

I must curtail its frenzied trek 

A bug is crawling down my neck.  

I jump and shout. How could a speck 

Of protein make me feel so weird? 

A bug is crawling down my neck 

With clicking claws and spikey beard. 

~LaVern Spencer McCarthy

wrestling the symphony of fingers and strings on a harp

~Devoshruti Mandal

the car

that blocks the ambulance

seeing red

~Bisshie

old prune juice

clearing the cupboards

and myself

~Patricia Hawkhead

black ink scribbles

deciphering the secrets

in his shadow

~Patricia Hawkhead

passengers of the wind

some almond petals

on the balcony

~Françoise Maurice

In Vain

Flies like fresh fruit, though past their best,

blood orange, rotten to the core;

yet fleas for flesh, as mashed in mess,

drinking vessels, capillaries,

their platelet dish, corpuscle quiz.

Old fools’ gold from prospectors’ hunch,

in vein, a seam of red from blue.

as stake their claim, rare, bloody hue.

Are chips laid down, accompanied,

salt in the wound to irritate?

~Stephen Kingsnorth

Pizza crumbs

From last night’s dinner with you

Memories

~Jennifer Gurney

Morning of March 21, 2023

hencluck laidegg

~J. D. Nelson

chickenspring

~J. D. Nelson

morning glory a biscuit named bartholomew

~Kelly Moyer

feet first every time a tuesday falls

~Kelly Moyer

Sure to Meet

After Ko Un

 

My ear fell off

and went to the land of the dead.

Now I am listening listening listening.

I hear the dead they say,

We hear you.

Let us in.

~Noah Berlatsky

The sky is a bucket, the sun is a leak of light.

The night is awash in galaxies made of burning suns.

Below, my piccolo speaks butterfly. 

~Will Reger

first spring hike

the baby reaches

for the sunlight

~Wai Mei Wong

Evening of March 17, 2023

 

some days these old bones

run too long on empty —

lost lottery

~Alfred Booth

between the Ides

and Saint Pat — more

reasons to stumble

~Alfred Booth

the redwood's root canal: a chainsaw aria

~Robert Witmer

deep in the woods: no clock ticks bite

~Robert Witmer

it’s senescence

not effervescence

when words no longer

bubble up like alka-seltzer

~James Penha

orange

in the barren tree

a desert moon

~Robert Witmer

 

purple lips

blowing kisses

beneath a wine-dark sea

~Robert Witmer

Cassandra

an empty bucket echoes

in a dry well

~Robert Witmer

the flyer

for a bungee jump

a money-back guarantee

~Robert Witmer

a spool of time

stitched past its prime

asteroids

in a vacuum

rhyme

~Robert Witmer

Real Poet

I’m a real poet

since I have all of these books

of poetry that I plan

to have read someday.

~Noah Berlatsky

 

Afternoon of March 16, 2023

 

 

change reaction

 

one

fist

raised

in anger

against the power

multiplies exponentially

~Joseph Farley

eviction day

dragged from his tent

at the homeless encampment

an unkempt man shows the cops

his Purple Heart

~John J. Dunphy

Base Metal

There was no golden age.

This is no golden century.

We must take the lead we find

and learn the art of alchemy.

~Joseph Farley

Cassandra

You have the right to remain silent,

To anything you say, no one will listen.

Open your mouth in an empty scream

emitting sound so high or low

that no one can hear.

~Joseph Farley

Even A Dog Knows

A beaten dog whines in the night, but not too loud for fear of another kick.

A beaten dog knows that love and loyalty are only words recited in the dark

to mask the fact of the leash and the hand that holds it.

A beaten dog, as all dogs do, will look up at the full moon and feel the urge to howl,

but his lungs fail him as he longs not just to shout greeting but to go to that cold satellite

or any other place where no one will beat him even though they still may walk on him.

~Joseph Farley

O’ Just a Trail Any

 

On my journey to nowhere where nothing was found.

I slept when the moon came and listen to its restless unheard sound.

 

By morning with much regret, I forgot the nothingness my restless

Heart and mind was set. There was no song left to rhyme and

 

If reason escape me. I was not the one it would find.

~Marchell Dyon

women's day . . .

I gift mimosas to

my mother

~Bipasha Majumder (De)

weekend laundry

on a quick spin

Ferris wheels

~Rupa Anand

Concrete geisha unearthing

lunch

on mars.

~Noah Berlatsky

Looking Forward and Back

I dream of tomorrow

and the day before yesterday.

while today,

today is just a pain in the ass.

~Joseph Farley

Next To Nothing

When all you have is nothing

or next to it

you hold on to what little you have.

Guard your mango and your rags

for it is all that separates you

from being nothing yourself.

~Joseph Farley

Progress

I prefer to think of it as standing

in the same place

while technology goes backwards

more slowly.

~Noah Berlatsky