Mark Strohschein
I am tired
and only want
to try
nothing more
than to
transmogrify
into sweet, sweet tones
the redwing blackbird owns,
or to ride
on delicate
winds of
the thrush’s song
wondering why
all along
I couldn’t just die
of a beautiful song.
Mark Strohschein is a Washington state poet who lives on Whidbey Island. His work is forthcoming in Flint Hills Review, Cosmic Double, New Note Poetry and […]
Robert Beveridge
sweep of hand
puppets flung
to batter
walls
and table corners
lie cracked
broken
bleeding on the floor
bleach
bleach will kill it
stomach acid
saliva immobilizes
like premature burial
hypodermic bleach
needle full of clorox
in the upper thigh
Jeffrey H. MacLachlan
skipped class / junior year
fled rural / jersey
first / time
nucleus / capitalist
manhattan / friday
december / thirteenth
apologies / for pauses
still breath / catching
homeless / slumped
rows / supplication
skyscrapers / mighty
credit’s / fallen
broken / disciples
rockefeller / cardio
celebrity / anchor
barbecue / morning
styrofoam / loaded
bowl / steam
center / buckled
left after / appearances
cleared / turnstile
napped / abandoned
a / train
dream / revelation
arose / square times
such / a clatter
asteroid / quarters
rushmore / plummet
resurfaced / cosmic
explosion / blossoms
homeless / cozy
ghosts / christmas
future / retail
santas / looting
packs / voracious
morality / illusion
war is / over
pleading / static
survival / pulses
pupils / aroused
jewelry […]
RC deWinter
I had my
toenails painted blue
just because
I could – and
why not? May as well match them
to the rest of me.
All these blues
in different shades –
robin’s egg
to midnight,
sky blue to cerulean,
heaven to the sea,
which is my
heaven, the place I
want to be
when it ends –
all the hoping, the wanting,
the thrusting for place.
So bring me
to the water, a
boxful of
ash; scatter
me broadcast over blue waves
indifferent to
a few more
ounces of grit no
longer blue,
reduced to
the gray of finality,
sinking, sinking, done.
RC deWinter’s poetry is widely anthologized, notably […]
Merna Dyer Skinner
Forgotten are the living who disappear
into skyscraper sugar clouds Eyes perched
above cheekbones necks searching for the Sun
inside lightning Autumn’s iron spoons
dance shuck and shuffle the Clapper Fandango
stirring desert silences into applause
from afterlife performers Praise-sounds
Laurel Silverwood
The white dove landed on the roof
and tumbled down the chimney.
It emerged from the fireplace
with wings all dusted black.
The girl mistook it for a crow
and chased it from the house,
ignoring the olive branch in its beak.
Laurel Silverwood
How are you feeling?
I heard of you-know-who the other day. He’s moving in with his new girlfriend.
I know things ended kind of weird between you two. I’m […]
Liam Gehrig Bach
why place our hands / in reach of forbidden fruit? / that just says, “CONSUME.”
crawling in and out / fleeting emotions unknown / and thoughts more unknown
because that which eats / is that which gets to survive / albeit alone
all eyes watch two friends / dance in mud atop the world / laughing at the shame
eyes open in dark / for so long that they forgot / what it means to close
Liam graduated from […]
Liam Gehrig Bach
my body is all burns and wires
skin and blood, electricity and fires
heartbeat heat that sticks then flows
flat waves at sea, jellyfish that glows
cannot afford sentience like mine
which batters my skull with ice and brine
a black lightbulb which refuses to shine
suppressing a thought, deleting a line
_____________________________
my brain is all slush and […]
Jayne Marek
These rhododendron leaves yellow
talismans of neglect. I asked you
to take on the yard, keep it
somehow. Summer
cracked our skins, though
there was little sun. Warblers
and tanagers came late, goldfinches
argued their wings. One slant
of afternoon sliced your chair. The yew’s
red tears already coming out.
Jayne Marek has published six poetry collections, with her next volume, Dusk-Voiced, due in 2023 from Tebot Bach. Her works appear in Terrain, Rattle, The […]
