Not Enough
not enough
now
or ever
after the rain wrought
wrinkled
wet
and worlded
the way out
it’s not enough
the way you held the standard poem
and read it out
the way the world loved it
and gave me the towel
to wipe you down
give the world all its bliss
and give me everything after
in the ruins
where I can make my home
Read more "POETRY: ROBIN WYATT DUNN – NOT ENOUGH"Dodgy Edge
You’re out shopping
right now
for the room
we’re going to share
tonight.
It will be cheap,
somewhere
on the dodgy edge of town
but you’re looking
at the color
and pattern of the curtains
the quality of the artwork
on the walls.
I’m disappearing
in faint gusts of wind
lost in anticipation
wondering why
you expect to take away
anything more
than what
I put inside you.
Dear Kelly
Some things exist only to be seen by
those that need them most. As a
child, I watched a young theologian
reduce the divine to a chalkboard
sketch. Time is a circle that we live
inside, he explained, and that the Almighty
exists outside of. How simple
the universe is, sometimes. I’ve driven
down enough country roads to know
what loneliness is, walked down enough
city streets to know the isolation of
crowds. Wherever you are, you are
small amidst the vastness of the unknown.
I am standing atop a bridge, surrounded
by strangers, watching an eclipse
overhead. One whispers to another,
“We are witnessing history.” It’s true.
In eighteen years there will be
another, and by then none of us will
remember each other’s names.
Read more "Poetry: Matthew Heston – Dear Kelly"To the couple from the orange tent
whose amorous shushes
crept around the campground
long into the night like a bear
looking for leftovers,
I’m sorry if my kids
happened to slam the car doors
a few too many times
on our way out to an early morning
Ranger-led flora and fauna walk.
Staring at a lineup of RVs
crammed with wildlife-gawking
selfie-stick swinging day-trippers,
he said: the valley
had become a petting zoo.
Better head for the high country
if you’re looking for something wild.
So we did, and found more people and cars
but also endless pine, something blue
called sky, and mountains rising up
with a shrug that said: if not wild
then closer. Maybe it was the thin air,
or not showering for five days,
but I’d recommend the ice-clear lake
I dove into, for once not wondering
how much time was left on the clock.
Read more "POETRY: Yoni Hammer-Kossoy – Scrawled on a Yosemite Park Map"Remembering
I walk in the shadow of skeletal trees,
their fearsome, naked branches reaching out
in desperation, pleading for redemption
like ghostly soldiers back from war in search
of peace, an end to dreams
of screams and shattered flesh.
Scattered underneath, concealed among
withered, blood-red remnants of last year’s
flowers, lurk spiked seed pods,
tiny, inobtrusive land mines
set to detonate at slightest touch
exploding everywhere new seeds
prepared to sprout, to conquer, and
to dominate all lesser growth
exhibiting their red magnificence.
Until, again, the glory ends
in stark, bare desolation.
Read more "POETRY: RITA ROUSSEAU – REMEMBERING"Dylan Thomas “In the white giant’s thigh,” he recited, berry-eyed, while the moon, or the spotlight, like melted silver, poured down over wondering flocks of girls and their fellows; the college library wasn’t big enough to hold the babbling poems and broken science he would write, so he said, booming big and drunk, windy and […]
Read more "POETRY: JACK D. HARVEY – Dylan Thomas"BRAIN MATTER The brain is more than a cerebral cortex connected by synapses to thousands of neurons. It stores an infinity of ideas ready, at any moment, to be introduced in a public setting by the tongue. Even something as simple as “Let’s go get Chinese tonight.” A neuron wouldn’t think of that. Nor would […]
Read more "POETRY: JOHN GREY – BRAIN MATTER"Hack Attack
Finally! Obama shot back at the Russian hackers
who attacked our computers, the Democratic National Committee,
Hillary’s email, and just fun Vermont’s power grid.
But shot with a BB gun, it could shoot someone’s eye out,
leaving him dazed and bloody, not like a nuke
which could destroy a country or a world,
leaving the scent of smoke no creature could smell.
Obama, did you smell the flaming planet?
Trumpeter tweeted Putin putting off his own retaliation,
shining “very smart.” Treason is giving aid and comfort
to an enemy. Is the president-elect dipping
into treason like chocolate mousse?
Trumpeter sided with WikiLeaks founder
who said “Nyet, not a Russian hack.”
Does dumpy Trumpy want to build a golf course
in Siberia? It’s all about money.
With his glowing bare muscular chest,
Putin must have a dozen women
Trumpet can grope.
~
Bio
Catherine G. Wolf studied language development in graduate school, and was fascinated by this unique human ability. In 1997, when she was stricken with ALS, also known as Lou Gehrig’s disease, her ability to speak was taken away by this disease. She found poetry had a special capability to express her innermost feelings. By losing her physical voice, Catherine found her poetic voice. Catherine has published in the 2016 Rat’s Ass Review edition of Love & Ensuing Madness, Rat’s Ass Review, Front Porch Review, Verse-Virtual, Cacti Fur, and Bellevue Literary Review. She uses assistive technology to communicate, and raises her right eyebrow to type.
…
The Faithful Faithless
After signing 37 petitions, I dreamed
Sunday night 37 faithless members
of the electoral college, but faithful
to the national popular vote,
defected from the orange Rump
and voted for Hillary.
Russian hacking couldn’t turn
our election upside down.
America was great again!
But when I turned on the TV Monday night,
America was raped again.
Two electors dressed in camouflage
fatigues snuck away from the orange Slime
and voted for Kasich and Ron Paul.
On the blue Pantsuit side,
three deranged defectors voted Colin Powell,
one voted for Bernie to keep our revolution alive,
one flew to Native American
Faith Spotted Eagle’s perch.
Hillary won 2,800,000 more than Tiny Fingers,
why isn’t she the President-elect?
Because the electoral college uses
nonsensical rules of assigning electors to states.
It tilts power to small population states.
It’s hardly a college, more like doggy daycare.
Now we’re stuck with climate contrarian,
women-groping, Muslim-hating, Putin-loving,
nuke-hawking, lying-tweeting, cancerous Lump.
Time for a Lumpectomy!
Magic Spell Against Trump
Orange Trump,
You rump!
You love Putin,
here’s my sputum.
You brag about women groping.
You’ll end up in jail I’m hoping.
You orange vampire,
you suck blood from those you hire.
You lie about everything, the height of Trump Tower, the popular vote.
Don’t gloat!
You want to deprive us of civil rights.
Hell no! We’ll fight!
You say climate change is a “Chinese hoax.”
Save that for your Florida grandchild when she croaks .
Pugnacious pug!
You’re asking for a slug.
Your businesses, we’ll investigate.
You’ll drown in corrupt-gate.
This country won’t tolerate you.
We’ll impeach, get rid of you.
No sociopath fascist will be president.
In the White House, you’ll no longer be resident.
We will put you in jail.
The end of “Hail
Trump!”
Cacti Fur 