Afternoon of November 3, 2022

grey mortality

where twilight gathers

inside a peacock

~John Hawkhead

blue grass

 bluegrass

 blue

grass

~Kerry J Heckman

when grass

ripples up the hillside

where do emperors sit?

 

~Owen Bullock

A few thoughts

from the hillside

and then I fell

in a hole.

~F. Kate Langan

around the fire once upon a time we are

~Keith Evetts

a sign of the times fruit flies

~Lithica Ann

h o p e   a n d   c h a n g e  : :  c u l t u r e d   y o g u r t ~Jerome Berglund

the pulse

of the neon sign

in sync with mine

~Joseph P. Wechselberger

maggots all in good faith
 

~Lithica Ann

transcendent prose

the skitter

of bangers and beetles

~Kelly Moyer

old writing notebook

silverfish devouring

my words


~Kerry J Heckman

tail feathers

plucking the apple

from the seed


~Kelly Moyer

                    People, like apples,

                    ripen on family trees

                    into savored fruit.

                    Those not harvested in time

                    duly serve as applesauce.

~Frank De Canio

It takes a lifetime

to recover from childhood.
 

~F. Kate Langan

Itchy thoughts

amble through

the forest of grey matter,

coming, going,

coming, going,

faster, deeper;

I hope they're not important.


~F. Kate Langan

did you love the ground when your face was in it

~Emma M Foster

places I’ve lived seabottom

~Lithica Ann