Afternoon of November 4, 2024

 

 

internet out(r)age

~petro c.k.

Dirty streets,

Looking for a savior

Shadowed nights

~Sarah Mahina Calvello

why do

you continue

to serve

overripe

undercooked

apologies?

~Keith Snow

off-strip motel

the flutter

of tattered curtains

~M. R. Pelletier

minivans

we haul more ass

than we used to

~M. R. Pelletier

Gen X'ed

all my punk friends

are dead

I sold out

by staying

alive

~petro c.k.

persona non grata

after

light

the

spots

still

visible

on

a

lantern

fly’s

wings

~Anthony Lusardi

carapace

cicada killer—

my summer youth

my fear of death

buzzing along this highway

until i reach the shoreline

~Anthony Lusardi

as election heats up the podium melts

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

election night

our bottle of champagne

unopened

~John J. Dunphy

barricades protecting voters from voters

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

morning after election

the ballroom's ceiling balloons

unreleased

~John J. Dunphy

 

Pushcart Prize (Poetry) 2025 Nominations

(Oct 27)

two quadrums

single bed.         single clap.

that buzzing        the ending

in my ear.                 of a life.

~Mark Gilbert

(Oct 24)

time travel

if only

i’d go back

a day

and keep

my mouth

shut

~Tom Blessing

(Oct 20)

unedited

I want to say love me

love my text,

consider converting

all the selfies

on my dating profile

to screenshots of poems.

~Kathryn Reese

(Oct 17)

A Man Called Toothbrush

bristles

at the thought

of death

ignorant

of the fact

Sylvia Plath

would never

write a poem

about him

~dan smith

(Sept 29)

preemptive

i leave my hand

open flat

on the mattress

so i don’t

wake up swinging

from the moon

~Kelly Moyer

(Sept 29)

Nothing.

And then

nothing,

but

in verse.

~Noah Berlatsky

 

Congratulations to these six talented itchy poets! 

 

 

Afternoon of November 2, 2024

 

14 stitches

the mysterious lure of

a nowhere tree

~A.J. Anwar

climate change—

worldwide snowflakes

seasonless

~A.J. Anwar

wooden labyrinth

3D-printed

coral reefs

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

Home

We lived in a ghetto.

In a chawl of our illusions,

in the mind’s megalopolis.

 

Our shanty was built

to be bulldozed.

~Sanjeev Sethi

refugee school

the now

of this woman's voice

~Maya Daneva

alone at the beach

there must be something

the moonlight wants

~Maya Daneva

queue for popcorn

a potbellied man keeps

pushing me ahead

~Tejendra Sherchan

Aren’t I Entitled

I’m an open book

though some pages here and there

are glued together

~John H. Dromey

frayed nerves

election day jitters

hauntingly déjà vu

~Ruth Van Alstine

undecided

I consider unfriending

all undecideds

~Morag Elizabeth Humble

One day there will be…

One day there will be no sounds of suicides.

One day there will be a vast blue sky—

A perfect abode for the innocent.

One day they are all phoenixes with the sound of

First ever freedom.

~Partha Sarkar

paramedic sirens

I wonder

if

it would be

another sudden death

~Tuyet Van Do

chalky hand sprouting

from the ground

candlesnuff fungus

~Tuyet Van Do

Plot Development

write what you know

write what you think you know

make something up

~John H. Dromey

 

Evening of October 30, 2024

                                                       Flea swag available here

 

 

Halloween

I EARLY VOTED sticker on

a tombstone

~John J. Dunphy

I am

the merchant

of stars

~Tejendra Sherchan

as the bees dance

the moon

is pierced in two

~Melissa Dennison

Solitary Wanderer

as a ghost

what I miss the most

my shadow

~John H. Dromey

Old Hall

witches' marks

carved into the walls

~Kimberly Kuchar

birthday cake

still standing

cutting time

~Elliot Diamond

candlelight dinner

a swimming moth

in my soup bowl

~Bidyut Prabha

Sunlit river

No one can see you cry

Underwater

~Sarah Mahina Calvello

Misty leaves

Haunt the window

Days grow longer

~Sarah Mahina Calvello

just

beneath the surface

truth

~Jennifer Gurney

stepping into

the vast wilderness...

I meet myself

~Jennifer Gurney

I am depressed

so I walk the dog.

The dog feels better.

~Noah Berlatsky

he doesn't want to know the secret handshake anymore

~Patrick Sweeney

tripping over a sycamore root on the way to Cézanne's mountain

~Patrick Sweeney

once I wrote it down, the morning glory let me go

~Patrick Sweeney

he spent an inordinate amount of time on the subsidiary elements of his story

~Patrick Sweeney

when the plot is worth unraveling

~Patrick Sweeney

vanishing point the words unsaid around the conference room table

~Joshua St. Claire

our squares

in different circles

mockingbirds

~Joshua St. Claire

another acceptance

a little less afraid now

of dying

~Joshua St. Claire

unwashed

the hand that sewed

sequins on the stinkbug

~Kelly Moyer

a tuft of lint

drifts from my sock

namaste

~Kelly Moyer

needlework

i trade my yarn and canvas

for a voodoo doll

~Kelly Moyer

spitwads and airplanes

i contemplate

a career in physics

~Kelly Moyer

i write myself

as the protagonist

absurdist tales

~Kelly Moyer

chronic illness

fluffing the pillows

of my escape room

~Kelly Moyer

listen

~dan smith