Evening of October 14, 2022

       family 

no matter how itchy

     still family

~Rupa Anand



The Milky Way

fell into an artisan fountain

under a bridge

homeless people

playing dice

with a strange patrol

dressed in green

a milkmaid brought

a few porcelain lambs

to send to Mars

~Mircea Moldovan


 

poet’s

secret life

(redacted)

~Roberta Beach Jacobson



Shivering bracken skeletons

 march in grey discord

~Rebecca Dempsey

 

 

sex                                                               pot

      ladling soup from the bottom of the

~Kelly Moyer



puppet theatre

the snip

of her strings


~Kelly Moyer



whisper from stage left your fly trap is open
 

~Roberta Beach Jacobson



Leafing the ground

trees sate their own hunger

~Rebecca Dempsey



a sudden swing

of the weathercock 

abandoned manor 


~Arvinder Kaur



as I rearrange the river’s stones by hand...

you say

you want me to change

~Lee Hudspeth



vampire mosquitos

escape from a vampire's

niche and attack a group of night bathers and pierce their harvest of human blood 

into the vein of their vamp. Ouch!

~Madeleine Vinluan



minstrel cycle

I feel like

singing

~Roberta Beach Jacobson



morning dew

no asterisk at the edge

of eden

~Kelly Moyer


Afternoon of October 9, 2022

wagamama nottingham

chopsticks clacking

slurpers slurping

sauce-stained noodles

from wooden bowls

rows of peasants

packed onto benches

behind glass

umami
 

~Mark Gilbert



A domino falls over,

and over another

its neighbor falls.

~Catherine Zickgraf



morning mist

every word colored

mondegreen

~John Pappas



in today's horoscope

the colour I dislike

is lucky for the day


~Muskaan Ahuja



night market

the flowerseller’s

can of paint
 

~Kelly Moyer



sure thing

Sweating

and screaming

as Espresso Speedway

powered past Masterclass

in the final straight.

I was hooked,

addicted.


~Mark Gilbert



Denali bus ride …

tourists watching the moose

watching the tourists
 

~Bonnie J Scherer



gravity waves

past catastrophes

causing ripples

today and next week


~Mark Gilbert



empty theatre

we meet

in ghost light 


~
John Pappas



Half moon floats

above orange and red trees

darkening sky

shivers, not from the cold

~Steve Van Allen



a corpse

 rising from pond scum

 year of the rat 


~Anna Cates



glowing moon

casts a shadow—

flying witch
 

~Sharon H. Frost



lucky to have wrinkles to worry about

~Patrick Sweeney



a looking glass half-fully conscious

~Kelly Moyer



building muscle…

the repetitions in

sleepless nights

 

~Bonnie J Scherer



tonight

the unicorn

that was feeding

with my dreams

didn't come

I stayed up all night

waiting

and counting

sheep

on and on

~Mirela Brăilean



I must be crazy

to write all these

but here I am

~Mirela Brăilean



Morning of October 9, 2022

Rain on the walkway.

Dogs with no

wish for wet.

No sun.

No play.

Dogs on the couch

until dinner.

~Nolcha Fox



gangly spider

climbing the firewood

in for the winter
 

~Ron Scully



wolf spider

in the shower curtain

what does he eat?



~Tom Blessing



weather cock

the last sheep joins

the bandwagon

time to watch

the big leap

off the cliff


~Daya Bhat



gnawing teeth

inside the crawlspace

sleepless

~Eavonka Ettinger



crocodiles—

pretending to be rocks

on river rocks

~Rupa Anand



deer moon

all there ever is

is a lie and a line
 

~Daya Bhat



pair of pigeons

I point the cellphone

to shoot

~Daipayan Nair



clockwork bloodhound follows a simple syrup trail,

through a boy's ribs the November wind blowing
 

~Richard Magahiz



tiny dancer spins on a rhino's horn
 

~Eavonka Ettinger



flea + flea = two
 

~Roberta Beach Jacobson



sand fleas

between the pages

light's tide turns

~Ron Scully



this fleabag or that


~Roberta Beach Jacobson 


Morning of October 4, 2022

daddy long legs

a committee

of movement

~Mark Gilbert



old house –

a pair of crows

on the swing

~Daipayan Nair



monster under the bed her favorite toy


~Eavonka Ettinger



emperor moth I dream with four eyes

~Minal Sarosh



bite of the flea October

~Roberta Beach Jacobson



Transylvania

an exorcist shining

his cross

~Anna Cates



Frankenstein

knew how to

revive the party

~Eavonka Ettinger



I keep lying: yes, I think I can live


yes, I am inspired by heartwarming stories

of people I have never met

and hopefully never will

who have survived

terminal illnesses

that are not mine


yes, I hate death


no, I am not here


no, I am not writing this down

~Miriam Sagan



dashed hopes the end of her ellipses

~Kelly Moyer




beach flea

burrows in the sand

threat of war

~petro c.k.



ticks for lunch

fleas for dessert

possum

~Roberta Beach Jacobson



                                                              
                                                  ~Keith Evetts



Curse

Our family graves are filled

with aunts, uncles, cousins

all struck down young by heart attacks,

that genetic earthquake lurking

in our DNA, waiting to implode.

As candles dim, I tell my husband,

when I go, cram the porch with chili peppers

for how I used to be.

~Pris Campbell



blinding me

the golden tooth

of my neighbor

~Minal Sarosh



bird solo cut short

the tape player

ate my cassette

~petro c.k.

 

 

struck a star

like a piƱata

sunburst

~Eavonka Ettinger


 

Afternoon of October 3, 2022

tribal land

a blind elder gleans

the enigma


~Anna Cates



Days Gone by

the senior citizen contemplates

her existence in an aging diner

fork suspended over a wilted

three-dollar side salad – droopy

iceberg lettuce, ragged shredded

cabbage, some slivers of carrots –

all drowning in a cheap dressing

she wonders what happened to her

endive and radicchio, honey mustard

candied pecans, sugared cranberries

~Marsha Warren Mittman

 

 

in the movie    the vegetable man plays himself


~Patrick Sweeney


 

injustice mothers losing sons
 

~Roberta Beach Jacobson


 

racism when do we stop pretending


~Roberta Beach Jacobson

 

 

whitewash of many colours
 

~John Hawkhead



You don’t see me.

My face is scuffed.

Ignored again.

A stray post-it. 

A scribble stuck to the floor.

Trod upon.

Faded ink.

Faded life.


~Nolcha Fox