Afternoon of September 22, 2023

 Baby Dalí

I do not have a hut

at the edge of the sea

nor a family

nor their ire;

but, I have the freedom

to dream the dreams

of a madman

in shabby thrifted attire.

~Kelly Moyer

on receiving a job promotion

boss asks, “do you own 

anything other than jeans?”

I laugh, then say “no”

~Tohm Bakelas

gloomy day

I sip my wine

your empty chair

~Françoise Maurice

a dried rose

inside Great Expectations

library dusk

~Debarati Sen

Paris.

What else can I add

to you?

Paris, just

Paris . . .

fuming on,

late summer leaves sagging with

exhaust.

~Yearner

 

Our Best of the Net 2024 Nominations

Keith Snow, Kelly Moyer, Lauren Scharhag,

Nolcha Fox, Patrick Sweeney, petro c.k.

~Five Fleas Itchy Poetry 

Celtic fire, ancestors' blessing.

~Carolyn Crossley

black walnuts crafting weaponry from sparrowsong

~Kelly Moyer

Dead Horse Jesus (Haiku)

Dead Horse Jesus could

rise again, but he knows the

beatings wouldn’t stop.

~Chad Parenteau

 

 

inflation rate

the stars whisper

in the autumn sky

~Françoise Maurice

I Imagine

a star dying

a check clearing

love off somewhere

of course enduring

~Yearner

The Lament

Your eyes are open;

yet, you can’t seem to see

the treetop babies

or the way the sun

glistens on the surface

of time.

But, I’ll be the last

so bold as to remind you

that a pear costs a dollar

less than a dime.

~Kelly Moyer

The Veil

the wheel of

the year turns

forever eternal

spirits pass — through

the thinning veil.

~Carolyn Crossley

One

nearly frozen

heavy raindrop slips

through a hole in the gutter

and hits me on the shoulder

sending a deep chill

through bone and organ

is it any wonder

I think of you?

~Yearner

tiger lilies —

I dared him

to love me

~Debarati Sen

the reality of the situation

big job promotion—

now I write haikus

on a higher salary

~Tohm Bakelas

Postcard from Saint-Rémy-de-Provence

baguette-shaped clouds

above the brûléed plain

dusted just now in lavender

light

~Yearner

 

Evening of September 21, 2023

along the border weeding out the vulnerable

~John Hawkhead

preaching hellfire and damnation nation

~John Hawkhead

storm coming wind sweeping everything awry

~Jennifer Gurney

god’s good earth in the killing fields

~John Hawkhead

deepening love in mathematical improbabilities

~John Hawkhead

I Can't Take This Anymore

That's what I tell myself

every morning.

But I still get up

and do it all over again.

Because sometimes

a man has no other choice.

~Gabriel Bates

thanks for talking me off the 'buffeted by wind and wave' ledge

~Amy Sweeney

he jumped off his great-grandfather’s famous bridge

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

 

I’m not great at being anybody.

~Noah Berlatsky

ebb tide reaching a new low

~Patricia Hawkhead

Morning of September 17, 2023

all five faculties

what happens when you

don’t write things down

~Mark Gilbert

finding a soft spot in the icehouse of protracted pain

~Patrick Sweeney

tone in which the merchant said: we're not open

~Patrick Sweeney

the inner voyages of the bedridden sailor

~Patrick Sweeney

walking

between raindrops

white space

~Mark Gilbert

fire does not give rise to perspective

the birds don’t sing

autumn does not come

autumn from now on without legs without god without man

~Mykyta Ryzhykh

(Originally published in BarBar)

I would know Tom Wait’s

voice anywhere ...

all gravel and grit

~Jennifer Gurney

the universe is snow-winter

one day we will fall into the grave

slowly like snowflakes

~Mykyta Ryzhykh

clutter of neurons

thoughts

cling to the branches

~Mark Gilbert

after a trip to

the joke shop near Grandma’s house –

itching powder strikes

~Jennifer Gurney

a million fragments

each one labelled

with a memory

~Mark Gilbert

evidence of rickets deep in the bone texts of the Shang

~Patrick Sweeney

Metzenbaum scissors for the cut of his jib

~Patrick Sweeney

sandy beach scattered clouds a fake puppy runs toward the camera in slow motion

~Mark Gilbert