Gerald Fleming: The Secret
The man had the sense the secret was planning escape.
Roberta Hatcher: My Highway 61 Revisited
Well at times ideas seem so absurd
But if you leave me in peace to play with words
I’ll give you something simple
Just a little rhyme
To amuse and to help to pass the time
Charles Harper Webb: Flubadub Invents the Sixties
His elephant-brain conceived The Howdy
Doody Show, and chose what Old-Time
Movie played when Buffalo Bob pried open
his Hostess cupcake-with-the-surprise-inside.
Nasser Rabah: We Are Not Iron
We are not iron, O God, so that we can be melted down every year. We are not copper or lead that they fire among the armies and leave behind after the end of the war as mere ammunition and ashes.
Claudia Lefko: Dear Refaat Alareer | A Letter of Gratitude
As per your wishes we’re striving to live—hopefully a deeper and more reflective life, including a life of action against the genocide in Palestine.
W. H. Auden: Stop all the clocks
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
Byron Hoot: Two poems about beginning and ending
The death of my father is nearly a month
away – 31 years. The haunting of longing
has begun.
Alexis Rhone Fancher: Hermanas
You’re the same, you two, J, my lover, said. Of course you feel an affinity. I stared at the Frida Kahlo self-portrait in his hands. Frida’s soulful sweetness stared back. You … Continue reading
Arlene Weiner: For My Husband Who is Depressed at the State of the World
Lilacs perfume the city air. Smoke from wildfires
turns sunsets glorious. Talons tear the breast of the dove.
The world changes. The world doesn’t change.
Michael T. Young: What the World Waits for
Like that day I sat in the yard
under the braids of summer light,
reading, weighing thought
against thought for what was right
or what was wrong
Michele Battiste: 101st Note on Violence
Cast iron: iconic. Romantic
even. Well oiled. Seasoned. But far
too heavy. Fatal. Certainly. If wielded.
Determination or luck.
Baron Wormser: Dark Time
I know the purity of pure despair,
My shadow pinned against a sweating wall.
That place among the rocks—is it a cave,
Or winding path? The edge is what I have.
Alison Luterman: What I Learned
singing’s made of sweat and spittle,
tears and snot, hot breath,
and the soggy crumb of a potato chip left
in a back corner of your unflossed tooth
Michael Simms: The Skateboarder
Not sport but defiance
Not lifestyle but thrust and risk
A kick, an aversion to common sense
