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Cigarette
By Daisy Sanchez -- Tap, tap, tap. On the table my pen goes Tap, tap, tap. “ Just one puff, ” says my brain “ Just one puff.” I know that...
Apr 28, 20241 min read
RECYCLING
By Sarah Das Gupta -- water polishes refines reduces to the essence the hand grasps a polished stone fine blue veins stretch across the...
Apr 28, 20241 min read
Heat
By Sarah Das Gupta -- Here is a strange stillness, a breathless waiting. And nothing moves In this deepest woodland, the green...
Apr 28, 20241 min read
An Englishman’s Right to Roam
By Sarah Das Gupta -- The word roam is itself a promise which embodies a leisurely freedom, a Will O’ the Wisp sort of dream, of...
Apr 28, 20241 min read
Socratic Soliloquy
By Catherine McGuire -- I watch bubbles swirl and pop; the dish soap’s tensile strength allows a bubble long(ish) life to travel across...
Apr 28, 20241 min read
The Mundane
By Corey Mesler -- Like food, like the hum of the tree as you approach: these things mark us here, keep us connected to the only...
Apr 28, 20241 min read
The dog, older
By Corey Mesler -- Saskia has gone deaf. No more the call of the wild. It falls on stone. She can still sing, loud enough to disturb the...
Apr 28, 20241 min read
The Changeover
By John Grey -- The cardinal’s done with its sweet clear whistles. The veery’s song descends into silence. The distant wit-wit-wit of the...
Apr 28, 20241 min read
That Annoying Cow in the Dairy Section at Acme that Moos at You Whenever You Go to Buy Milk
By Robert Beveridge -- We have placed a granite altar between the heavy cream and the Irish butter, basalt molcajete atop it, tejolote...
Apr 28, 20241 min read
Wirewalker
By Jim Burns -- You balance on moonbeams, but if you trip in the night and find yourself in deadly flight consider all the wires you’ve...
Apr 28, 20241 min read
Closing the Circle
By Jim Burns -- When I was young Death was old and due to its wisdom was in control. I was sick and didn’t care so Death grew bored and...
Apr 28, 20241 min read
Sunset Sadness
By Jim Burns -- You are standing by the window. A bank of clouds, sprawling gray and purple bruises on the sky, accepts the sacrifice of...
Apr 28, 20241 min read
Sunrise Echo
By Diane Webster -- Below the horizon the sun reaches up to touch the clouds once gray now brilliant orange and red sands splashing...
Apr 28, 20241 min read
straddling words
By Ed Higgins -- we all do it, of course but poets especially: like bareback bull riders bone-broken astride the arching back words buck,...
Apr 28, 20241 min read
SONNET
By Soeut Phal -- “I want your fiery flickering and scorching Dancing in the coals until ashes turns cold Arts components into heartfelt...
Apr 28, 20241 min read
Rainbow Bird
By Diane Webster -- Two birds glide through the waterfall’s mist arcing rainbow colors separating one side from the other. Birds soar...
Apr 28, 20241 min read
Poem Written by A Praying Mantis
By Adam Bloom -- The time passes anyway Doesn’t it? No matter what you do It will pass And you will pass too (and so) I've decided Any...
Apr 28, 20241 min read
Fake Nice
By Bruce Gunther -- You stand a few feet apart, wishing the coffee maker would hurry, exchanging the usual pleasantries about weather,...
Apr 28, 20241 min read
My Stifling Procrastination
By Bruce Gunther -- Exudes confidence. Exhales dust and ennui. Lets weeds grow. Stifles the urge to put one word in front of the other...
Apr 28, 20241 min read
Moving On
By Barbara A Meier -- The end table bit me back, fell into pieces, while the scratch won’t stop bleeding. My life moving on, until...
Apr 28, 20241 min read
Coming to an End
By Russ Bickerstaff -- Time certainly seemed to be running out. But I didn't necessarily know why. I mean, I knew that time was progressing forward minute by minute. I mean, I knew that. That always happens. Be kind of weird if it didn't. But there was something about it. That seemed kind of strange. I mean, it seemed to be running out. Not that it was progressing forward in a linear fashion. But it was progressing forward to a conclusion. A resolution. And ending. And that
7 days ago4 min read
Rebirth in Ruins
By Yutzil Virgen -- Inside me, a fire burns– shadows whisper vengeance, fists of anger clenched around what once was sweet. My heart hides itself behind walls I built from fear, searching the echoes for the reflection of who I used to be. Once I was a warm river, a light that embraced, hands open to forgiveness, a voice that quieted storms. Now I walk among ruins, bitter like forgotten fruit, and I cry out to the heavens: “Do not let me fall.” I am the daughter of an eternal
7 days ago1 min read
Carrying Light, Holding Shadows
By Yutzil Virgen -- I walk with both hands full– one cradling a flame, the other gripping darkness. The fire burns, a fragile warmth against the wind, reminding me I am still alive. The shadow pulls, a heavy tether to everything I've lost. I am both the lantern and the eclipse, both the hope and the wound. To love me is to hold both– the light I offer, the shadows I hide. And still, I keep walking with both hands full.
7 days ago1 min read
POETRY
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