Goodbye to This and That

by Constance Woodring I am old. Thank God. I will be dying soon. Thank God.I made shrimp cocktail this evening. The shrimp were frozen, cooked and in a bag marked:“no chemicals added.”As I write this poem, I still have a taste in my mouth. As if I made swimming pool water shrimp dip.I do not have children. I do not Read More

To the doe, rotting

by Tianna G. Hansen your ribs are bare on your chest cavitywhere I imagine your heart was homed is that what the vultures consumed first?the vital organ that once pumped blood  through your leaping body, long legs kickup in joy, in life. you must not have seen  that death machine hurtling toward youbefore it was too late, and you became  Read More

At the grave of your death, I smile

by Elisabeth Horan For why not; God’s been joking with us All the while; He whispers placation In our ears, plants lust for the sinner’s Alcoholic slide, leaves dust where a Mother, her child, she should find. My loss, and melancholy, were it not For our friendship, would be funny, Really, I laugh at the nose of death – Pointy Read More

Sonnetype at dusk at graveside of young woman.

by Elisabeth Horan He who gives Me – taketh the Stone Eats the Loverslips – sways her Bones To magical heights – or was it a depth A lapse in heart pulse – or justified death A Man who touches such as this – hands Never take their leave, I part my Ocean Seas – I forge a New Iron Read More

Dust

by Rickey Rivers Jr. That dust             does dance                        in the air                                    with little care                                                 for allergy                                                            or infant. Inevitable pest,            plaguing homes and such,                         a silent guest,                                     growing,                                                 ever growing,                                                             waiting                                                                         to be wiped away. Rickey Rivers Jr. was born and Read More

Sentimental Passing

by Lamar Neal Last night, I had a dream that my mother died And I woke in a cold sweat awaiting her voice. As I awaited for her to answer my calls, I cried Unsure how I would live if God made his choice. In that moment, life itself became surreal And every fairy tale proved itself as fake. Though Read More