Morning of February 19, 2024


 Discovery

evidence galore

exhibits A to Zillion

hoarder in the court

~John H. Dromey




like this her gestures / yes a shadow's width apart / safe from whatever

~Charles A. Perrone




Vomiting

really sucks.

Everyone knows that, I guess.

But sometimes

we need to reaffirm

the simple truths.

~Noah Berlatsky




Help! does scream the kelp

I've washed ashore and cannot

get back to the sea!

~Charles A. Perrone




party animals

tearing the place all to shreds

making life worthwhile

~Charles A. Perrone






fangs

chasing dogs

chasing cars

~Roberta Beach Jacobson






Ay, There’s the Rub


thinks boarding pass is

scratch-off lottery ticket

stranded at spaceport

~John H. Dromey




alley

coatless man and a dog

                frozen

                together

~John J. Dunphy




blood tracks

in the snow

yet it’s certain

his knife is plastic

~Roberta Beach Jacobson




AI flash mobs some assembly required

~dan smith




then when she wasn’t

she was

~Roberta Beach Jacobson




free jazz sandwich

swiss cheese melody

hold the chords

~dan smith

Evening of February 17, 2024

 

unlike butterflies     deathwatch beetles tell no lies

~Richard Magahiz



raw throats it's not   not the alcohol

~Richard Magahiz



on each raindrop     I write your number

~Richard Magahiz



adorning

the ventricles

concertina wire

~Richard Magahiz



Has seen none

But the blind pioneer

How shrewd philosophy

Bets on collapsed economy

With tampered coins.

~Partha Sarkar



Haunts human eyes

The suppressed helpless

Fire and it flees.

But where should it flee?

All roads go to hell.

~Partha Sarkar



flea market

i buy someone’s

childhood

~Mona Bedi



intermittent rain our on and off relationship

~Mona Bedi



metastasis the length of a life

~Mona Bedi



autumn equinox

he promises me

the moon

~Mona Bedi



parts of her

unknown to me

Alzheimer’s

~Mona Bedi



wind fractures the moon on the lake water too cold for a dip

~Joseph P. Wechselberger



October leaves rustle an octave below the distant sound of blues

~Joseph P. Wechselberger



scraping away layers of paint the size of old scars

~Joseph P. Wechselberger



morning sun

the web’s builder resting

on the windowsill

~Joseph P. Wechselberger