FROGS – Michael Lee Johnson

Frogs “Grow grass, stone frogs,” written on bathroom walls. Hippie beads, oodles colorful acid pills in dresser draws, no clothes, kaleidoscope condoms, ostentatious sex. No Bibles or Sundays that anyone remembers. Rochdale College, Toronto, Ontario 1972, freedom school, free education. Makes no sense, when you’re high on a song “American Women” blasting eardrums and police […]

EVERYDAY THINGS – ANDREW HUBBARD

Everyday Things We’re still getting used to the new house: How the blinds work Whether the couch belongs where we put it How to set the thermostat Where the good dishes go (In a marriage-defining moment My wife said, “I want guests To see them, but I don’t want it To look like we put […]

ALZHEIMER’S – TIM STALEY & SEAN BRANSON

Alzheimer’s 1 I see the heads of a family bobbing above the shrubs– or is it really small people holding up sticks with heads attached? 2 a burning shovel at the bar a boneless leaf in the bed 3 water broke Helen while diving into lake 4 Helen’s lips a rain check purple clouds 5 […]

4 POEMS from a coastal axis in Lagos Island -Tukur Ridwan

1. When a virus was dressed in rapture • Circa 2020: How it burgled our country In the hem of a certain night befuddled The omniscient among us. A prelude to rapture, some would call— I recall. A prophet could not Document this ambush on his calendar Of foresight. So much for the unforeseen That […]

INTRODUCING Alannah Radburn

The swamp eyes are blinking in the dark; bayou moon slick on the surface as if oil slowly leaks over the lily pads. Seaweed and liquor, black licorice and dawn; kiss my ear and whisper music to my blue veins. Bubbles lazily drift to the surface. The ripples idly lap the nightly sky.

EUCLID AVENUE – John Brantingham

Euclid Avenue My dead speak to me too softly under the traffic noise of an early commute. Their words do not come through, but I can hear the complaint in their tone. At a stop light where I am boxed in by big rigs, their voices are fearful like children. I think they are trying […]

3 POEMS – Peter Mladinic

Philip Schaeffer texts Tasia: I told him to tether his dog to the back bumper of my truck, so he did. Then the four of us went upstairs to my apartment, at Woodleaf, had a drink and recapped our weekend. I should have said, “Bring your dog up.” I didn’t think, yeah, your pet’s out […]

DEATH IS RATTLING – JOHN TUSTIN

DEATH IS RATTLING Death is rattling me From my throat to my balls To my bones When I wake up in the morning, As I contemplate this space I occupy, Drive to work Or pick up some groceries. It lurks whenever it is not staring into my eyes And daring me to stare back. The […]

A PANDEMIC POEM – SYMPHONY – Ben Macnair

Symphony The ambient noise of cars, the atonal honk of impatient drivers, rushing to work, until March 2020. When the Skies became clearer, the Roads, quieter, the deadlines, the timetables, simply Memories The Birdsong, the rhythmic tarmac strike of pedestrians, a Symphony. The Quiet third movement of a Concerto, and at the end, only one […]

FOOD CHAIN – Bruna Gomes

Food Chain little girl / eaten by her thoughts / eaten by adults / who like interrupting / eaten by retail therapy / lots and lots of retail therapy / consumed by itchy blazers that are four sizes too big but priced at 80% off / eaten by high-brow ideals / like Vogue and espressos […]

Cacti Fur

a poetry high ground

poetry