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 […]

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 […]

CHICANO LIT – 3 POEMS – Ricky Winters

“pellucid” I am still here floating in this grey space knowing nothing but this blurring smoke that I breathe and exhale pondering on whether this is living or simply being alive but if this is what life is then kiss this life from my lips blow out my candle and do not call out my […]

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.

MILES LISS – 2 POEMS

Aliens

On this mountain,

we built likenesses of ourselves

as human beings.

We sent them down to the valley to mingle

with the townspeople.

We went to Dairy Queen, ordered

a Blizzard, bought Megadeth

at the music store, and visited Army gun shows

that exhibited tanks and other

war machines.

We pretended

to be one of them, for this and only this

made them happy.

We walked into banks

instead of robbing them.

We took out accounts in fake American names

and sipped free cucumber water.

We went to the movies

with customers

carrying tubs of popcorn and 22 liters

of Coke, and pretended we were beautiful

for two hours.

As we rode back up the mountain,

the radio played a country song

about football, pick-up trucks and rebel flags.

We were made to understand these things

meant home.

An SUV drove across from us, with

an American family. In the front,

a husband and wife took a look

at us. I tried to read the husband’s lips.

I’m pretty sure he was saying, “Stay

away from our borders.”

In the back, a little freckle-faced boy

with a coonskin cap fired a pellet gun

at his kid sister—imagined killing her.

Monuments

The Washington Monument

shoots up at night like a giant rocket ship to the moon.

The Lincoln Memorial glows majestically.

Dead Presidents stare out through stone eyes,

their heroic expressions rendered masterfully.

Arlington Cemetery overflows

with soldiers who died in their honor.

Rats in subway grates

raid garbage bins for half-eaten Chipotle burritos.

Tourists walk past homeless men

whose hands are swollen

like catcher’s mitts.

A new Whole Foods opens around the corner.

Liquor stores sell lottery tickets

and menthol cigarettes.

At Five Guys, a family huddles

over burgers and Cajun fries, peanut shells on the floor

swept away by Central American teenagers.

Their pimply-faced son

watches the teens work while he chews.

KEEPING MY APPOINTMENT… – Deborah L. Wymbs

KEEPING MY APPOINTMENT WITH MY ATTORNEY ON A GORGEOUS DAY

School is in session,
Time for another life lesson on the living of life:
Small trees bend from the pressures of an invisible partner,
The wind takes the lead during an unrehearsed tango—
A day of bouquet beauty.

Two young men skate board warriors with tattoo armor
Scroll down the steep asphalt city hill.

I look to the pastel blue sky.
Am I looking at it or looking through it?
Its beauty is my bookmark.

I chose my attorney by the appearance of his desk,
The picture story relief, an atlas of events carved into wood,
Tree rings of life beneath layers of dark stained beginnings.

When will this fiasco end? I ask
And the answer he knew I wanted to hear,
Soon, with hopefully attached loosely.

PETER SCHIRESON – IN THE THICK

In the Thick

In the thick

of our holy quarrel,

she leans in

to whisper

the most important thing,

but is silent,

and I want to leave her

alone

across the table

on her device,

but I knock over our old vase

spilling the violets,

and she looks at me

as if before they fell,

she’d already

seen them

fallen.

Find Peter online here.

HOLLY DAY – KISS IT ALL AWAY

Kiss It All Away

I crumble under the weight of your wings

as you leap from the balcony and find that you’re only human

and the two of us fall.

There are gods burning in the fire place

painfully smiling through bruised lips

I’ve got runs in my hose from their fingernails; they need us, too.

What a disappointment it was to discover

that you still have one foot stuck in the real world

and it’s the foot that counts.

TIM STALEY – 13 HAIKU

13 HAIKU All the naked women turned out to be Barbies on the kitchen floor ~ The spider grins when something crashes its web and breaks its connections ~ A crystal airway blocked by a hot dog collapsed the operation ~ Alone time in December is somber […]

ANDREW HUBBARD – WALLACE’S STORY

Wallace’s Story Wallace said: We were at this craft fair Quilts and pot holders Goats’ milk candles and god knows. My wife likes this stuff And I go along. I call it “Putting money in the marital account,” And besides, somebody has to pay. This little woman came hobbling up to us About 50 inches […]

Cacti Fur

a poetry high ground

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