By: Michael Gerard Rinse Steady handsFists pre-bloodied,Ready for the skirmishPromised by tomorrow. Trepidation calls outEagerly, contemptuously,Nibbling at the frontal lobe,Soon to be gnawing. The day comes,The room heats.Smog muddies the airas brutality steals our gazes. ### Not Just Nine to…
By: Tony Walt I am doing nothingat the pool todayclouds drowsing above someone is bombing citiessomeone is screaming in trafficsomeone is stuck in a broken elevator I scratch my belly andfeel the butter warmth ofthe sun on my shoulders I…
By: Stephen Kingsnorth Daily Scrip It’s pit against mind behind screen.And is it evens, you can win?Addictive, just one dose a day.Why is it, Wordle, reaches parts?If logic leads your disciplines,your bell rung lexicography,your mind is scrabbled, words approved,or you’re…
By: Enrico Barigazzi. The troubadours They were skirmishing with ink and letterscomposing stanzas putting together lineswhile crowned heads and princesses were dancingin their courts full of lights and shines they’ve passed through the pages of historychanting struggles and deeds of…
By: Thomas Doerksen Sitting in the blue snow Hoods of geese lurk in the river’s wardrobe.The winter branches comb the night wind, its low moaning sifts away the grit of my distraughtthat clogged in the day’s flow. In the twilight…
By: Ankita Roy Choudhury Memory clouds watchus counting sand onbeaches. They toosearching for you, silverlinings. I believe, a bodyfor two. Nani , didn’t knowyou were blind to sound,deaf to light. You knewthe dark in me blanketsyour soul like the mothers,mothers…
By: April Mae M. Berza Dale As the Moon’s Embrace Dale is the sweetest metaphora poet like me could never fathomsince metaphors could no longer encapsulate the nuances of the moonas well as the stars kissing Dale’s chest.I wonder why…
By: J. K. Durick Fading Into Sitting here like this, it’s the snap of timethe slap of time – minutes, hours, whole days,weeks fading into – into… Perhaps it’s time’s wing’d chariot, or just that’57 Plymouth my brother took me…
By: Carl Papa Palmer We raised rosesrelished by usand by the loads of lovely ladybugs,tended thymetrimmed by usand by our overabundance of bunnies,weaved wisteria for usand for the haven of one hundred bird nests. We transplanted tulipstreasured by usand by…
By: Michael C. Seeger Field Notes from a Far Place in the Mind Between vision’s palette and the processof its understanding and potential —an irrefutable question rattlesthe cold mind’s eye contravening everysteepled ritual from childhood forward —What replaces the irreplaceable?…