by K Weber
A month ago my hand was a fist
and then it slowly opened and wrote poems.
It slowly opened like a morning glory
morning; briefly invited everyone to look
Tag: Poetry
As Red as That Which Connects Us All
by Alex Gibson
Red as an axe-wound gouge to the heart
Red as the bloodshed too soon to depart
Red as the smouldering left on pale flesh
Red as the raw ire choking veiled breath
Red as the razor lain still by the tub
Red as the rosary drowning in blood
Red as the knuckles of wallpaper white
Red as the bathroom’s shattered pull-light
Red as the flash of a chamber’s last blow
Red as the ink on emergency room notes.
3 poems
One moment I stare at the screenRead More »
as blank & empty as a zen void,
then watch an impossible poem
emerge & crawl across the page.
Revisit Life
by Carlos Daniel Martinez
I want to go to a desert,
Where nothing can bother me,
Where I won’t bump into anything,
To close my eyes for minutes walking for miles,
To anywhere where I don’t have it planned out,
My eyes shall not guide me anywhere,
It shall be my mind.
What Have We Learned
by John Tessitore
for Emma
Today the sun was a friend,
a hand on the shoulder,
like a father.
Lovely, Isn’t It?
by Sheeks Bhattacharjee
There’s a place I know,
not too far from home.
I first went there at sunset
and I had never felt
so
alone.
Read More »The Birthmark
by Ann E. Michael
small blotch the shape of an imagined continent or aRead More »
wing’s purple imprint. Such amazement.
2 poems
a recent obituary
by Geoffrey Aitken
i imagined my
hideaway
in secluded
high mountain country
Winter Quietness
by Michael Shoemaker
Winter could have been conspicuous
showy or ostentatious
if not for its timorous silence.
No rustling of dry leaves
as a deer approaches.
Read More »
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