
By: Roger G. Singer CAPTURED moonlighton the driftof your face pauses to gazethe beauty as your handshields thefountains ablazewithin your eyesfrom a moonjealous ofyour youthfulheart ### BELOW strong gravestone name, date, a […]
By: Roger G. Singer CAPTURED moonlighton the driftof your face pauses to gazethe beauty as your handshields thefountains ablazewithin your eyesfrom a moonjealous ofyour youthfulheart ### BELOW strong gravestone name, date, a […]
By: Andrea Myinga There are no worries,If all you want is your selfEarth peopled with strangersThey first care for themselves. Look around at least to find oneThe sun might fall downLeaving your […]
By: Leigh-Anne Burley Birth and deathreset clocksbells toll on both. Heady winds thwartsailors and politicians. Paying attention is anessential navigational instrument. Fog and stumblingproduce clarity. There is a broader range of truthin […]
Words that calculatingly drip with murderous intent and threaten, like an FBI Profiler’s accuracy, to knock you right between the teeth.
By: Paweł Markiewicz ABABACACA You are an enjoyable juniper!You are a pleasurable bush!You are an agreeable poplar!You are a delightful spruce!You are a gratifying cedar!You are an amusing birch!You are a diverting […]
By: Radomir Luza Anti-Medusa(For Sylvia Plath) Your words like butterfliesHair like magenta skiesCelebrating mended lies Knowing what I do notNight ending in night beginningLike a schizophrenic ringing Victims winning as they are […]
By: Anthony David Vernon The South Again FloridaTake me as I amI want youIn my arms againAnd then to let you goFor GeorgiaOr VirginiaOr anywhere else againLet me pull you in like […]
By: Annapurani Vaidyanathan POEM #1: There’s nothing perfect about beauty, about you, me and this world that’s doused with entropy. Yet perfect is always what we long for, don’t we? We lose […]
By: The Muse Words of an African Child ma,I’ve wanted tohold your hands whilethe sun is closing its eyes&when that flowerin our backyardis saying ‘hello’ for the first time. (I wanted for […]
By: A.J. Ortega It was my fault, and I knew this only when I was kicking through charred furniture, books, and two-by-fours.I hoped that I’d find the red lunchbox, only half-melted, and, […]