2 POEMS – OAK MORSE

Man in Nursing Home One morning man in nursing home walks out of room with robe open, genitals hanging out. Lady next door shouts Oh my goodness! Then slams her door. Man lifts genitals and says They Dead. Then walks onto elevator, janitor there gasps and man says They dead. Man walks into lobby into choral huffs […]

2 POEMS – Daniel Schulz

Afghanistan (August 25th 2021)
-FOR HEELAI
Watching TV at home.

Twenty years of history
undone
in not much more than
two days.

What happened
to the person I studied with?
The woman
who moved back to Kabul
and founded
a feminist magazine?

She has a family now.
She has a kid.

Hoping
she is among the refugees,

I constantly watch my phone,
hoping it will ring,

as the old regime drives in.

Hollywood
When managers audit a factory,
we workers call it Hollywood.

Because
we make all your dreams come true.

The floors are clean,
the assembly line in perfect order.
Not one thing out of place.

No cursing: perfect discipline.
Everything in perfect shape.

Then the manager
goes out the door
and everything
just dissipates.

We have a tight schedule.
Don’t you understand?

Everything follows this principle.

An increase in production.
Supply and demand.

His Family Lights 293 Luminarias Every Night Until Christmas – Tim Staley

His Family Lights 293 Luminarias Every Night Until Christmas for Tim Chavez 1956–2020 293 luminarias line both sides of the street. Parallel stalks of star grass glow in the smoky haze. 293 luminarias tealight the runway for a ghost. A splatter of soft syllables upon the walls. Each one a wobble of whatever grace their […]

Prior to Departure



The old man

opens the

airport bar

at 5 am.


He wipes down the bar stools,

chops lemons and limes,

completes his morning inventory.

 

He subsequently directs his attention

to a television screen

behind the bar.

 

He is not particularly

interested in sports highlights

but what are his options?

 

Monitor the departure board?

 

He has witnessed enough

departure. 

 
~

Grave Marker

 

I notice one,

covered with dirt

and leaves                                                                                                                      

which I brush

aside with my shoe:

 

Mother,

it reads,

just

Mother.

 

No date of birth,

no end date,

no first name

nor last name . . .

 

Mother.

 

Enough

said.

 
~

Something Like Living

  

Get home

unload the groceries

take a crap

pour a drink

check on the kids

kiss a spouse

answer a phone.

 

Prep dinner

eat dinner

masturbate.

 

Pay a bill.

 

Sell a car

buy a newspaper.

 

Watch The Bachelor.

 

Bury a hamster.

 

Trash

cash

mash.

 

Flail

wail

junk

mail.

 

Attend a wedding.

 

Book a plot.

Edward Anki’s poetry has appeared in The Feathertale Review, (parenthetical), Qwerty, The Chaffin Journal,and others. A chapbook of his poetry, Remote Life, was published by BareBackPress.

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 […]

PULLING A BOAT UP AMONG LAKE REEDS – ROBERT BLY

Night has already come to the Ashby reeds, Though it is still day out on the lake. Night has soaked into the sand shadowed by reeds. And how many other darknesses it reminds me of! The darkness a father feels the moment a child is born, Blood that pours from the animal’s neck, The rocket […]

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 […]

Cacti Fur

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