By: Ram Govardhan Hey handsome gravedigger,at this spine-tingling witching hour,you’re digging an oblong ditch,for the frail, blood-soaked bodyof the sweet, rose-cheeked girlkilled by her dashing husband,who says he is a master mariner,back from the Andaman sea,after months, on a long…
By: Stephen McGhee Chimney Souls Porter spit sizzles upon the coalsI half engaged through inward eyeSoon released as chimney soulsTo dance with like in Dublin sky. To stoke this world a poker turnsAn ambers life to reigniteHypnotised by burning thoughtsI…
By: Mickey J. Corrigan White Night So I drive the van to the interstateand pull over by an overpasstake the M16from the back,stick a flag in the barrel. Yeah, it’s loaded. I’m loadedand my eyes are on fire. Sun’s roaring…
By: Lynn White Players The orchestra are tuned upready in their uniformblack costumesdressed so asnot to distractfrom the musicor the on stage dramadressed for invisibility. And those on stage are dressedfor the parts they’re playing,dressed for performancedressed to be noticeddressed…
By: Christopher Johnson We’re walking through the Cook County Forest Preserves,The Palos Preserves,Which sprawl southwest of Chicago,Like a beastly wilderness of hidden flora and fauna.The path humps up and down like the tail of a dragon—A trail benighted and spooked,…
By: Edwin Olu Bestman verily I say unto you/love should be a democracy/of the people/ by the people/ & for the people these are truths/stolen from the lips of a broken pavement/its smile trapped in cobwebs I am writing for…
By: Frank William Finney Little Eden Our little oasis betweencondos and traffic sheltering shades ofgreen and grey. You’re under the creepersscanning the skyline. I’m in the doghousehowling as usual. We’ll keep our distanceWe’ll keep our vows till either one of…
By: Allan Lake My adult children live far away.Their mother remarried. Dead relsring bells while those living send annualBD greetings on F-book that I don’t Like.Bravo. Bingo. Bangshangalingo.Would not change a thingo, Ringo.Old hometown may look the samebut I never…
By Clark Zlotchew NOCTURNAL CONTEMPLATION Night. The smallest hour. I reach my ship and pause,before climbing the gangwayto the shadow-shrouded quarterdeck,the murky maw of the beast,before ensconcing my weary selfin the bowels of the behemoth. I inhale deeply.The fresh salt…
By: GTimothy Gordon Bro’ Moment Outlier nesters filling up- and -out spring greens,chitalpa, spruce, willow curated street transplants,white-wing petite doves, thrashers, whiptails,each flat as a paten, tiny, tight clutch, solo-livingin deep time, sheathed-in-place, tasked by instinctto be watchful, patient, in…