Afternoon of November 18, 2023


 I divorce you, time change.

You disturb my sleep. Go away.

And take your light with you.

~Nolcha Fox



settling the score semi-precious library dust

~Roberta Beach Jacobson



lashed together shoes tripping into an old you

~Richard L. Matta



I dream healthy wake in hospice

~Roberta Beach Jacobson



seven years

in a taxicab backseat

writing that song

~Mike Fainzilber



Poetry is an assignment.

Write every day till joy drains out

and you’re left with words

like “assignment.”

~Noah Berlatsky



tonight i stare at screens, flipping

like a cat’s tail, impatient

eyes and brain blurred, but not a fog

to be swept away by an afternoon wind

fearing sleep, the potential for unwanted

ugliness

the taunting leer of loneliness

ghost pains of parts of me not yet killed

i am four years old again

holding a night light to every corner

~Alfred Booth



The Search


so many tupperwares

jammed into this fridge

where is the best

part of you?

~David C. Kopaska-Merkel



pico de gallo

extra cilantro…

hold the soap

~Stephen J. DeGuire



first cold November rain

trees bleed color,

i collect wet leaves, they stain my fingers yellow

~Steve Van Allen



taxi driver’s advice

never ever argue

with the perfect people

~Mike Fainzilber



chopping board

as if the pink slip

were onion

~Richard L. Matta



The dog was upset when I woke her up.

She locked me out of the house

and drank my coffee.

~Nolcha Fox


ancient well...

her counterfeit coin

never plinks

~Richard L. Matta



goodbyes said

without a tear

walking into the sunset

the story ends

~Ann Christine Tabaka

Afternoon of November 17, 2023

 

  discussing society’s expectations Pringle’s can

~Joshua St. Claire



thoughts of you wake so much earlier than I do

~Sharon Ferrante



in the morning not knowing who you are

~Joseph P. Wechselberger



daydream—

I tap the shoulder

of who I become

~Sharon Ferrante



this river

won’t see me

too many leaves

floating

over my reflection

~Sharon Ferrante



from one emptiness

to another—

falling star

~John Pappas



ignoring

the police tape

ladybugs

~John Pappas



waiting room

we silently watch

reruns of cheers

~John Pappas


first dream

I fill a winter page

with crows

~John Pappas




dwindling light

I swallow the lies

 told by mother

~Rowan Beckett



now with a new and improved formula

                              mock orange

~Joshua St. Claire



the careful curation

of his only bookshelf

Zoom meeting

~Joshua St. Claire



dead mall

a killdeer leads me away

from broken asphalt

~Joshua St. Claire



when the word

is silence

we dare not

repeat

~Roberta Beach Jacobson



zen

of paper moons

hole puncher

~Roberta Beach Jacobson



flea market

a vintage six-string

with only four

~Joseph P. Wechselberger



crumpled white papers yet the canary in the cage still sings

~Joseph P. Wechselberger



2 a.m. reading a neighborhood dog sleepless too

~Joseph P. Wechselberger



pandas on a plane bamboo diplomacy

~Roberta Beach Jacobson



fireflies in a jar burying my never-child

~Rowan Beckett



wish splitting a bone enters between the fates

~Rowan Beckett



d)us(t

~Rowan Beckett



treading water the deep end of august

~John Pappas



anxiety filling the sky with swallows everything

~John Pappas

Morning of November 15, 2023

 

it was then that I realized her family didn't shout obscenities at the television screen

~Patrick Sweeney



using the excuse of not wanting to waste their time to circumvent their wasting of mine

~Patrick Sweeney



embarrassment


the wind is blowing

embarrassment through

the trees. see their leaves

blush red as they realize

i am watching them

dance naked and free.

~
C.W. Bryan



Sunset; what to say?

The neon flashes brighter.

Tacos now, and nothing else.

~Noah Berlatsky



wow's as good a prayer as any

~Patrick Sweeney



rusty old pick-up line

~Roberta Beach Jacobson



back then I always left the wolf out of the story

~Patrick Sweeney



in from the medieval darkness   trash day

~Patrick Sweeney



food coloring slush fund

~Jerome Berglund



people who say hello to those no one else will

~Patrick Sweeney



who is owner running the microchip

~Jerome Berglund

 

 

we consult

our medical alert bracelets

for what ails us

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

 


the excruciating details he puts into the stories he tells that nobody wants to hear

~Patrick Sweeney



airport layover selfies with strangers

~Roberta Beach Jacobson



fourteen dollars

flushed down the toilet–

airport chicken sandwich

~Jennifer Gurney



salting the steps

vote of

no confidence

~Jerome Berglund



bath bomb a war on dirt

~Roberta Beach Jacobson



finger puppet

on barrel of a rifle

fireside chats

~Jerome Berglund



~entering black hole

spaghettification, but

some sauce would be nice

~Jean-Paul L. Garnier



revived dinosaur

displeased with this oxygen

tries to roar but can't

~Jean-Paul L. Garnier

Afternoon of November 13, 2023


the sky is falling . . .

we all just stand there

watching

~Kimberly Kuchar



R.I.P.

written in chalk

on the sidewalk

where for months

a panhandler stood

~John J. Dunphy



the way he pours wine unsaid conversations

~Mona Bedi


dying alone phone

~Roberta Beach Jacobson



the safety of a quilt this depression

~Mona Bedi



killed without trial stink bug in toaster

~Roberta Beach Jacobson



measuring scale —

how fragile

this life balance 

~Mona Bedi



thrift shop

unkempt man

offers to trade

his Purple Heart

for a blanket

~John J. Dunphy



summer's end

autumn turns red

with war

~Kimberly Kuchar



bombed fields —

a farmer reaps

emptiness

~Mona Bedi

Afternoon of November 10, 2023

 

we were left with a petal and

empty cider bottles as a souvenir

autumn has never been

so forgotten before

~Mykyta Ryzhykh



the ant

under my

feet


taught me

to be small

~Mykyta Ryzhykh



no one will ask the foliage

about green silence

~Mykyta Ryzhykh



the cage asked the bird

and received no answer

~Mykyta Ryzhykh



tigers in the zoo:

no one sees how

the meat is prepared for them

~Mykyta Ryzhykh



Steak Gone Rogue!


mammal's vital organ

meaty, dark, reddish-brown

On. a. plate. Fried.

eyes, revolted

nose, offended

taste buds, assaulted

mouth, with soap, relieved

~Suzanne S. Austin-Hill



windy day –

braids of garlic

on a crowded bus

~Bonnie J Scherer



a puppy using geomancy to find the bone

~Elliot Diamond



no-see-um bugs I see-um

~Sharon Ferrante



my many faces in a gnat cloud

~Sharon Ferrante



during your vows

teeth lined your sleeves

some large, some small

the guests would weep

to hear the gnashing

~Richard Magahiz



God's seraph

each feather

iridescent paper

~Richard Magahiz



by the fridge

tilted columns

of stacked vertebrae

~Richard Magahiz



Trivia Bliss


I thought I knew everything


there was to know about the Beatles,


and then I read on the internet


John Lennon’s first childhood cat was named Elvis.


Lennon loved cats, the factoid said,


and I love Lennon more for that.

~Charles Rammelkamp



Laugh and cry

One's his fault

The other has no blame

I just can't help it

Love's not as easy

as they make it look on TV

~G. Lynn Brown



urban forest

grandest fir-faux

cell tower

~JL Huffman



soap bubbles

riding wind currents

out of sight

~Richard Bailly



Winter rain feels nothing

but I am getting frostbit

writing cold haiku.

~Noah Berlatsky



The Seagull’s 135th Seguidilla

 

You must know a gull who says,

For reasons unknown,

The sky’s glue. Some believe it,

Never knowing dawn.

How many songbirds

Sing as if the sky is glue?

Something like two-thirds.

~Jake Sheff



The Seagull’s 242nd Seguidilla

 

The fierce continuity

Between the slag-heap

Of dead gull ideas and now

Would make a stag leap.

Ideas like postcards

Floating on the sea to be

Read by the Coast Guard.

~Jake Sheff

Afternoon of November 8, 2023


aches and pains

the subtle differences

between snowflakes

~Robert Witmer



always that one guy asleep on the train

folded in half

~Kathy Watts



Frosted


You think you are a chocolate cake you frosted for dessert. You think your sweet talk more than pays for all the times

I paid your bills and offered you free rent. You expect me to pay the tab when we go out to eat. You never leave a tip. I

have a tip for you, my dear. You are just a frosted flake, and you’re not worth the milk to flush you down my throat and

out the other end.

~Nolcha Fox



a bonbon

on my lifeline

time will tell

~Robert Witmer



odds and ends

the grotesque handles

on the coffin of my dreams

~Robert Witmer



I Don’t Understand


Explain to me this transition from life to death, this nakedness of being between a last sip of coffee and a chiseled

stiff in a coffin, soon to be forgotten. Perhaps this is a last split millisecond to practice the fine art of nothing, a last

whoop where we swing over a chasm of whitewater before we fall. We fall. Without understanding.

~Nolcha Fox



a stranded salmon

its mouth opens and closes

the fear of speaking out

~Wanda Amos



inside

the huge fish

his wife's ring

~David C. Kopaska-Merkel



limp chocolate dashboard rundown

~David C. Kopaska-Merkel



skeleton dance

his bony hands

creep lower

~David C. Kopaska-Merkel



long skeletal branch

stretches deep into autumn woods

swallowed in darkness

~Steve Van Allen



millions of sperm

seeking one egg

new moon

~Wanda Amos



Today I am perfect

For I have done nothing but lie in bed

~Sam Kilkenny



too deep for crows feet

must be

ravens feet

~Kathy Watts



my life

moving into the slow lane…

my smart car

commends me

for my eco driving

~Wanda Amos



vector analysis

a misplaced mosquito

in the palm of my hand

~Robert Witmer

Morning of November 5, 2023

 

  gentle breeze blows

cold upon my neck–

stepping through a ghost

~Jennifer Gurney



under garage door

is guy trapped half-in

or half-out

~Roberta Beach Jacobson



the song was sung long ago

the echo still remains

of voices faint and far off

I do not know the words

~Ann Christine Tabaka



searching for your heart in the hayloft

~Patricia Hawkhead



trembling time wound tight enough to show, don’t tell

~Mark Gilbert



two in the morning

I am awake

I must write


three in the afternoon

I am drained

the ink ran dry

~Ann Christine Tabaka



glistening temptation

I drink from the source

with cupped hands

my muse

played by an actress

~Mark Gilbert



the trees are barren–

reminding me

of me

~Jennifer Gurney


Boredom

 

The man,

bored with

life, drooped like

a wilting flower

unwatered and left to dry out

on a windowsill, blinds drawn in lunar eclipse.

~Steve Gerson



Autumn, will you stop?

The leaves fall; the clock turns back.

But the leaves still fall.

~Noah Berlatsky



superhero


fly in

give the presentation

take questions

have a beer

fly out

~Mark Gilbert



clouds stately & silent

my migraine

squirming & slithery

~Mark Gilbert

Our Pushcart Prize Nominations for Poetry

Pushcart Prize Poetry Nominations

from Five Fleas Itchy Poetry (Poems published during 2023)


I’m a Mural by Jay Passer

 

Baby DalĂ­ by Kelly Moyer

 

Fairy Tales by Gabriel Bates


Sing Gone by Nolcha Fox


49 Cents Change by Keith Snow


Untitled (first line at least two years) by Patrick Sweeney