Morning of April 25, 2023

all the mistakes

I’ve almost made

empty shoebox

~B. L. Bruce

cut-off shorts

letting my frayed edges

be

~Kelly Moyer

woke to acceptance

a smattering of

distant applause

~Wayne F. Burke

waiting at the gate

arriving, departing

arriving

~B. L. Bruce

a breakfast sandwich

warm from

the microwave,

a portal

to this dimension.

~jkelso

home improvement

reinforcing

the chicken legs

~Kelly Moyer

Red crayons are good for

roses, smiles, fire engines

and lonely balloons

~Jennifer Gurney

grasshopper —

    jumping on

memory's habitat

~Debarati Sen

clear sky

selfies with a trailer

hanging over the edge

~Rupa Anand

an owl calls

in the middle of the night …

lingering doubt

~Daniela Misso

Ravens

what is love

after war eats out his heart

and he turns away

after 14 months

of letters describing

things that can never last

until that day his ashes

are carried by ravens

into my back yard.

~Pris Campbell

spring again

spooning violets

into the grave

~Kelly Moyer

a parade of people moving

past my bed, the living and

the dead

5 a.m.

~Wayne F. Burke

journey cakes

i save my best stories

for the squirrels

~Kelly Moyer

Evening of April 22, 2023

The Two Chairs

we sat in this morning

in our pajamas

in the sunny kitchen

kissing

are still in the same position

this evening when I get home

in the dark I sit in

one

then the other

~Paul Hostovsky

Grammar

6 in the morning drunks 

hiccupping love letters to a departing moon 

as the sun blindingly rises 

with an exclamation point 

to end this tailspin of a run on sentence 

that spills its ink across the pages of 

the flea-bitten mangy hair 

of this dog day afternoon 

~Kevin Farrell

stacks of stolen kisses

consecutive serial numbers

retrieved by Navy divers

out at the quarry

~Rich Magahiz

Wing It


The rut I’m stuck in

is this shell

 masquerading as a temple

if this body is simply a vessel

then I’ve taken on water

am barely afloat

opting to sprout wings

rather than form gills

~Kevin Farrell

The Untied Stales

of America she has written 

over the map a little carelessly, 

transposing two letters, 

forgetting to cross one t, 

the map itself colored in 

a little sloppily, dark crayon 

spilling in from Canada

and bleeding into Mexico, 

and how perfect is that?

~Paul Hostovsky

Spanish Flea

My gym routine driven by scales,

piano, 5 finger exercise,

though damper on the sustained strings,

my mottled foot, jazz fleas, bite work.

The score, Tijuana Brass,

sound notes as jumping Spanish Flea,

though who cares nationality

when trumpet blasts blow fleas away.

We all had itchy feet that night,

in dingy basement with the roach.

~Stephen Kingsnorth

Faults

You were born into chaos before it became your shadow. You learned that your first heartbreak

didn’t unequivocally break you, it just prepared you for the future. You wondered why the stars

preferred not to be seen, then you understood them for retreating behind the shroud. You longed

as your dreams danced in the distance, only to taunt you in your sleep. You witnessed things

burn because there was no other way. You witnessed things burn because there should have been

another way. You felt your soul splash, sink, and swirl, like a tear that gets lost in a storm. And

still, the mountains patiently breathed.

~Zach Murphy

Lessons in Nostalgia



I’ve been up and coming since I’ve been down

the windows to my soul are boarded up

the door to the closet where my skeletons hang is always open


I know nothing of fine china and chandeliers


I’m from dull razor shaves and long roads back


with high friends in low places


where rock bottom is a foundation


not a means to an end


where we don’t adopt cynicism


we give birth to it

~Kevin Farrell

true true true    mechanized hosannas

~Rich Magahiz

Revision

There used to be

a live chicken in this poem.

There was a mountain

and a sailboat.

The Pacific Ocean

sloshing between stanzas.

And me like Adam

saying Here am I

to God who was also

near.

~Paul Hostovsky

Afternoon of April 22, 2023

too gone

too soon

too gone too gone

 

the first snow

sticks to the dead

 

grass

 

we toss our flowers

 

hands, feet,

children, eyes

guns

~Patrick Cabello Hansel

 

 

Nadir

Vast horizons trapped

by clouds light and dark.

Rational meets random

standing in the wind

gathering the pieces.

The solstice promises

it will not get any darker.

~C. T. Holte

A Wave Against the Shore

A wave crashes against the shore

And draws back to the sea of before,

But leaves behind a watered mark

And takes the sand into the dark.

A heart rises to face the world

And then sees all its life unfurled,

But leaves behind the good it sought

And takes with it the dark it fought.

~Gabriel Gonzalez

Bryant Park blossoms

fly with spring’s breeze upon heads

forest shampooing

~James Penha

Listen: Yes

an original form as a novel

a book of poetry

a collective of letters

songs

to work Love

in a cousin's hotel.

~Daniel de Culla

Metamorphosis

your limbs

         become numbers

when once

         they were music

~Steve Horel

It’s not the eyes

        that lie, 

  It’s the little man

who reads 

their screens

~jkelso

Dragons

Mr. E. Gary Gygax

slew forty iMacs.

in an atavistic ritual

from the days before nerds went digital.

~Noah Berlatsky

The key turns and I

Open the mailbox sadly

Knowing full well that

There will never be

Another letter from you

~Jennifer Gurney

Siamese Fighting Fish

 

It came as no surprise that the fish committed suicide.

 

Curious about the whiteness of the wall

bumping against the glass.

 

Ephemeral existence,

the terrifying silence of a bubble.

 

Sunbeams showed the way

to jump into a new life.

 

It came as no surprise that the fish committed suicide.

 

With the world so beautiful on the other side.

~Inga Piotrowska

Plastic colored grass

Found in the sofa cushions

Long past Eastertide

~Jennifer Gurney

 

OCD

I am going to open a picture-framing shop

with special frames–each a hair off square,

giving my customers opportunities to share

my gift, one that keeps on giving:

something to straighten . . .

again and again and again.

~C. T. Holte

Five-Line Red and Black POEM Kit

(assembly required)

Red red red black red red red black red red red black red black black black red.

Red black red black red black red black red black black black red red black red red.

Red red red black red black red black red red black black red black red black red.

Red black black black red black red black red black black black red black black black red.

Red black black black red red red black red red red black red black black black red.

~C. T. Holte