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For you
by Altaira Hatton
You feed on your assumptions
consuming ideas
like juicy sausages
Plump, and full
of vigor and thoughtlessness
Can you hear your echo?
I wince at the sound
of
one thought running
away
with all the power of your mind.
Wild Nights and River Rides
by Barry G. Gale
Wild nights and river rides
And crimson afternoons,
Belly-flopping tumbling dogs
And intelligent spittoons;
Creative chatter that doesn’t
Matter struggling through the night,
Far off fears of Babylon and
The bitch that says she’s right.
Wild nights and river rides
And sequestered random moods,
Capitulating cannibals filled with
Otters, toads and goons;
Keeping life at heaven’s gate with
Mysteriously clever claws,
Pitching purple floral wreaths
At lions’ bated jaws.
Wild nights and river rides
And salacious, slinky cats,
Prickly little bastard’s sons
And officious yellow bats;
Conceited Calvinistic clods
With alabaster spoons,
Monkeys dancing on the moon
Through ecclesiastic rooms.
Spray painting autumn
by Christine Emmert
Do we think the glow is off the leaf?
Is it our maturity or the world's that grey is settling in
along with the promise of frosting.
Get out the technicolor
to brighten up this next season
which induces lovely melancholy.
The geese are flying fast!
Escaping the decline of hues.
the missing link?
by Lori Shapiro
A few years ago,
a southern hominid made love to me
in the middle of a desperate night;
then avoided and disposed of me
with a steamy Costa Rican flight.
He said,
“You are too non-conformist for me,
we always disagree.”
interpret he felt threatened by me
and my lack of, his own, mediocrity.
A valid reason not to miss
his arrogant, insecure, dogmatic kiss.
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General Meditation
by Anne Cammon
Singing, trembling, weeping,
then carrying buckets in the rain.
In the kitchen the women are singing
as they wash dishes upon the floor.
They don't bother
with the mountains outside the spattered windows;
dirty water
is enough, along with the passage
of dishes, tin clanking
from hand to hand
as the song merges,
tremulous and loud
Winter ride
by Tim Stapleton
When
all at once
the chit chat
stopped,
the two men
had exhausted
themselves.
Words became
just breath,
and turned into
mere audible
sighs.
a hush of a conversation now
Anything out the
window had made for necessary
words to pass the time
between them.
Their loneliness however, was never discussed.
Beneath the bones
by David E. Howerton
Dark water flowing, through tunnels
lined in dirty red brick.
Old bottles litter the ground
once filled opium,
piled around, on, beneath the bones
rat, dog, and some child.
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