By: Nikolaos Rousopulos Time, that thief, creeps with silent steps,Stealing the lightness of our youth.Five years hence, what will be leftBut the stark, unyielding truth? The dread of aging, a constant reminder,Presses down with no reprieve.Our days once endless, now…
By: Gregg Norman Stench of bones and bodiesCourting catastropheCamouflaged by cleaning fluidsDour faces in waiting roomsChildren run screamingDown wide waxed hallwaysWhite coats and pea greenPajama suits and sneakersFloral print gownsTied toilet-friendly in backCompassion fueled by coffeeOn graveyard shiftsWake up for…
By: Bruce Levine Focused on today Time takes its own direction Moving through the maze Ambiguity resolved Like strokes of a pen Setting a course Drawing pathways in space Flexible lines Sketched in the sand Waiting for the tide Resolutions…
By: Dan Flore III MY BUDDY, PTSD the good ol’ PTSD flashback camelike a piece of shattered iceI was getting changedgetting everything out of my pocketswhen suddenly I was standingin front of thatstupid hospital security guardwho stood like Herculeswith a…
By Hema Ravi Chinstrap penguins fulfil sleep in short bursts: ‘nod off’for about four seconds each time, such a trait evolved to remainvigilant as a lone parent left to guard the nest against predators,to care for offspring when the other…
By: Geoffrey Heptonstall ONE OF MANY THINGS The singers walk out of the futurewhere music flows in crystalline streams.The scene is sketched in vivid outline,later to be painted as it should bein a paradise of charms. And down from the…
By: J.K. Durick Now Online Everything, everyone in line is onlinedealt with in a click.PIN numbers, usernames remembered,filled in or forgotten,account numbers, then totals.It’s a matter of the numberswe translate ourselves into.It’s the easy to recall password.A shorthand shortcut that…
By: Ken Poyner ADAPTABLY MORAL I work at the playground mine factory. Assembly line work, and I have no idea how many stations there are before or after mine. By the time a mine reaches me, it has already started…
By: Jim Brosnan Forever Daydreaming It’s almost eightas I barrel pastwaves of corn rows,the July sunsetsplashing the Kansassky in strawberryswirls, the longshadows of eveningstretched acrossbroken white lineson the interstate.I listen to oldieson the truck radio,harmonize with Elvis,familiar lyrical linesI sing…
By: Susan Mayer Brumel Goose and Fish Sometimes, I succumbto suffocating sadnessthat force-feedsmy heartmy soulmy madness The goose. Salmon river-racethrough my veins –the pressure pains And I am that forsaken fish:stuffed withvulnerability and fearsingled out—and eaten by a bear. The…