Afternoon of May 20, 2023

An ocean of stars

sing to the skeletons

of sunken boats

~Carol Carpenter

A Church

Until we get dryer fixed we are going to laundromat. I often go early, soon after they open at six on a Sunday Morning.

Take Uber by myself, enjoy fellowship with the one or two friendly souls also there. Gospel music on the sound

system. My hour and a half or so is peaceful. No official dress code. I wear lounge pants and T Shirt. Today I feel

overdressed, I'm wearing underwear.

~Keith Snow

I’m so grateful

I woke up with a

headache this morning.

I could have woken up

dead.

~Nolcha Fox

A Bell

 
A bell excavates 

a sanctuary inside

my skull.

There I capture strains that belong to a realm without resonance

a desert where silence performs

for silence.

When I no longer thirst

I will be able to stay there,

eavesdropping on the absence of myself.

~Nicholas Klacsanzky

the new beau

her imaginary friend

sees right through him

~David Kopaska-Merkel

Little children carry guns to schools

courts carry parents to prison

society carries a heavy heart

~Peter A. Witt

jasmine evening—

the only thing

that can console me

is the loneliness

I’ve hidden away

~Nicholas Klacsanzky

End-stopped

You found yourself

with nowhere to go

up against the wall

picking off moss

and flakes of scale

floating around you.

~Dennis Herrell

Untethered

Blue, green, black

trash cans… out of line

by snow heap

~Biswajit Mishra

Watering the plants

A job I love to do

When I remember

~Jennifer Gurney

monsoon sky —

I wipe my glasses

to dream

~Debarati Sen

Fingers

When fingers have nothing to do

They do something anyway

Idleness not part of their DNA

Drumming on table top begins

In telegraph mode.

~Dennis Herrell

Afternoon of May 17, 2023

 

local shaman

those rusty nails and needles

suddenly

~A.J. Anwar

Swallowtail butterfly

Halloween colors

can you last until October?

~Steve Van Allen

borders of

my country etched

blood red

~Kavita Ratna

Anxiety

 

a thought, like liver --

   nose, offended; taste buds, assaulted.

a rhythm, but the dancers are off-beat.

a rash, stuck in the itch-scratch cycle.

 

it makes my hair stand on end

   like little, naked trolls from the ‘60s.

it’s what I feel when I can no longer breathe

   behind my mask of extroversion.

~Suzanne S. Austin-Hill

roadkill vultures at my funeral

~Kelly Moyer

pelvic exam the curtain rises on a cabaret

~Kelly Moyer

nostalgia tuning the beauty shop violins

~Kelly Moyer

coffee mug

I smell

my residue

~Daipayan Nair

regret

I wish I had

an edit

~A.J. Anwar

dark nebula

what the asshole poet

knows of love

~Kelly Moyer

Evening of May 15, 2023

when you left

I was outside

shattered—pulling

shards of glass

from my feet

~Sharon Ferrante

Zumba

getting the feet right

my hands go wrong

~Rupa Anand

Looking up I see

Brilliant full moon shining bright

That explains a lot

~Jennifer Gurney

summer heat

granny’s rocking chair

still creaks

~Sharon Ferrante

Brushing my teeth I

Wonder what the tooth fairy

Is doing right now

~Jennifer Gurney

late night

a drainpipe bent

from shimmying

~John Pappas

bourbon

water croutons

stirred not shaken

~Linda L Ludwig

declassified as a planet the maple seed takes root

~John Pappas

 

 

null hypothesis H0 model train

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

not prepared to give up buffet guests

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

feeling leafless the anxiety of alphabets

~John Pappas

patchy fog

the gaps

in her alibi

~Andrew Markowski

Welled Eyes

As if in consolation the sun cautiously appears over the hill and shines on the twisted beds,

abandoned trees, and old appliances the floods scatter in the muck which was once the yard.

The water in a hush slowly trickles under the twisted remnants of the dwelling house.

~Dennis Williams

another school shooting a movie in his mind

~John Pappas

I drown

become a barnacle

stuck now

~Sharon Ferrante