JOHNNY HUERTA – 3 POEMS

WHEN THE SHIT GETS REAL “My ol lady left me when her ol dog died, man. It’s not the first time either… They say it’s finally going to snow in Albuquerque. That’s when shit gets real” ~ WE GOT SO CLOSE It takes so much work to hit the stratosphere. LEO or “low earth orbit” […]

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5 POEMS – LANE CHASEK

Talking about weather they say meat substitutes are spies like prose poems or undercover agents who can’t keep their mouths shut, who keep talking about the weather meanwhile my grandpa died the way he lived—  talking about the weather, flirting with nurses, dead-set on never letting tofu pass his lips when you live in a […]

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4 poems – Constance Hooker Koons

Poor Jesus    Intermingled with emails     from hot horny models,    offers of ED help, notices  that people are looking  at my LinkedIn profile,  ads for Elixir of Eros                       and 24-hour bathroom   remodels – I’m suddenly  receiving daily junk mail   from Jesus Christ.    Subject – The biblical   error they don’t want   you to know or a question –   Exodus […]

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5 POEMS – Joe Sonnenblick

A Mint Left On The Pillow   Not a cure, more of a ritual She’s got the curve of the moon from the ribcage to the thigh Serotonin levels off, Birds dropping down the tree branch by branch Leaves and blood, A final guffaw and twitch. Sitting patiently, waiting for the newness, The change, Thoughts not […]

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MICHAEL LEE JOHNSON – VODKA OMELET

Vodka Omelet
 
Make it clear in my mind, Jesus,
am I whacked-out on Double Cross Vodka
or have I flipped out calling myself
Limburger omelet chef?
I hate question marks and angels
with crazed wings.
You know the type, John the Baptist
toking weed, stoned out of his mind, storyteller,
foul smells from poor hygiene, eating habits
open mouth, swallowing grasshoppers,
so silky, smooth as sweet honey.
Add 3 eggs in a skillet, Parmesan/Romano blend,
2 cheeses add-on, shiitake mushrooms, turmeric,
chopped kale, hint hot chili peppers, cheers.
Scramble me, I’m cracked.
I rock faith in jungle music, dance nude.
Everything is a potential poem to me.
My omelette, my life, my booze, master cook,
vodka
omelet
2:38 a.m.
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