Afternoon of September 4, 2023

the perpetual vigilance of God's own worrywart

~Patrick Sweeney

corroded bones reducing me to rust

~Debbie Strange

the frugal argot of bricklayers at lunch

~Patrick Sweeney

gingerbread house crumbs on the carpet

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

Hesse on the lips of the Braille reader

~Patrick Sweeney

where are philosophers supposed to park

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

AI winter : everything nothing but a memory

~Debbie Strange

AI mispronounces the town where people live

~Patrick Sweeney

buzzwording this deep dive into a cloud of fish

~Debbie Strange

room enough for bull frogs to breathe through their skin at the Oriental Market

~Patrick Sweeney

pleading guilty to defacing public restrooms with abstruse senryu

~Patrick Sweeney

hung with care jury

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

from out of nowhere

the grizzly bear

and a bicycle

~Debbie Strange

Afternoon of September 3, 2023

snow says goodbye to me

I am silent

I melt with

the snow

~Mykyta Ryzhykh

(Originally published in THE BIG WINDOWS REVIEW)

each time I strike a

match to light a candle

I remember

~Jennifer Gurney

Learned Advice

                         EXplore

               only the  PERImeter,

 and miss the inner    essENCE

               of it all.

~Suzanne S. Austin-Hill

No fleas in the morning

dormant ‘til sunny afternoon — guess they slept in today

~Julie A. Dickson

Morning or night, cat sits vigil on my window sill

~Julie A. Dickson

If I had a time machine

I would stop you

from putting diesel in the gas tank.

~Noah Berlatsky

"a final word of advice"

he tells me

for the fourth time

~John J. Dunphy

the Barbie movie —

such deep meaning

from molded plastic

~Jennifer Gurney

neighborhood crying

hand of anger

anger of the heart

weeping cities

^^ ^^ ^^

and these are birds

look over the heads of the war birds fly

~Mykyta Ryzhykh

(Originally published in Lothlorien Poetry Journal)

aluminum birds

even they come back

from warm countries home

~Mykyta Ryzhykh

(Originally published in divot)

This poem smells blue

| | |

The color of wrinkles in the sky

¶

Black shapes in clear water

∆

This verse will be picked up by crows in the morning

And they will be thrown from heaven

On icy concrete heart rocks

~

All in vain

.

~Mykyta Ryzhykh

(Originally published in Stone Poetry Journal)

Evening of August 29, 2023

 

two snails

if they race each other

it doesn’t show

~Daniel Birnbaum

the cockroach

what we think of each other

perhaps the same

~Daniel Birnbaum

the tangerine

perhaps the last to call me

from childhood

~Daniel Birnbaum

raindrops are spitting

on the book where I’m writing

this now-wet haiku

~Jennifer Gurney

a door that never opens

sealed forever

by a family of spiders

~Steve Van Allen

early morning quake

deep sea 7.4—

the cradle does rock

~James Penha

I write this poem

composed by my shower mind

wrapped in a towel

~Jennifer Gurney

Barbie movie

sex bomb goes off

only egos injured

~Adele Evershed

second summer

finding mildew

in all my cracks

~Adele Evershed

scathing review

I pretend my poetry

was written by AI

~Adele Evershed

counting on the spiritual procrastination of the good thief

~Patrick Sweeney

stillness even when there are no deer on the trail

~Patrick Sweeney

who I was when I first tasted a ginger snap

~Patrick Sweeney

the pain of passing petoskey stones

~Adele Evershed

resting my elbow again on the tiger's back

~Patrick Sweeney

she told me I should be searching for shovel-tusked mastodons instead of snow fleas

~Patrick Sweeney