Featured Writing

Traffic at night with the Milky Way galaxy Image by Evgeni Tcherkasski from Pixabay

Mood

by Chanchal Kumar Sometimes,     everything begins       to fascinate me:The slow passage of nightacross the sky,     the blur of traffic,the snare of my smartphone.          What I want     is a way          out of presentness.        I want     to leave & hope    to keep going—tho I don’t know      if I want to get out of bedto do that.

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Poetry Posts

Traffic at night with the Milky Way galaxy Image by Evgeni Tcherkasski from Pixabay

Mood

by Chanchal Kumar Sometimes,     everything begins       to fascinate me:The slow passage of nightacross the sky,     the blur of traffic,the snare of my smartphone.          What I want     is a way          out of presentness.        I want     to leave & hope    to keep going—tho I don’t know      if I want to get out of bedto do that.

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A couple strolling in the park Image by 철민 박 from Pixabay

Isn’t That Something?

by DeWitt Clinton What can we do, this late in life?Peeling a grape isn’t quite so charming,Even writing about peeling a grape,Well, it’s not the same as back then.But there’s so much back then, and ifWe do go back, we’ll likely make it allUp, as who still remembers the beach,The…

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Stage curtains covered in shadows Image by Andreas Glöckner from Pixabay

Unfinished Exit

by Claudia Wysocky I keep thinkingabout the time in high schoolwhen you drewmea map of the city,I still have it somewhere.It was so easyto get lostin a place where all the treeslook the same.And nowevery time I seea missing persons posterstapled to a pole,all I can think isthat could have…

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Middle Finger

by Jacob R. Moses In the aftermath of terrorOur bodies served asMiddle fingers to each otherIn lieu of fighting systems Somewhere down the lineWe lost our humanity underGuises of piety and logicRiddled with gaping holes Amid the disregard for lifeWe know the true modelsOf tyranny lie within thoseScapegoat hunting warriors…

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A man walking in shadows Photo by Bob Price

Two Cups

by Chris Litsey One said that poems were like music Our ancestors sang into our souls.  The other was captivated by the tendrilsOf fate she found herself bound within.  He was obsessed too, Obsessive to a fault, Finding faults in the failings of frail cards, Guided by the incessant turnings of midnight readings.  She…

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Rainbow over a treeline Image by Hans from Pixabay

Rainbow

by Anna Dodson August was quiet this year.My evening chamomile seepedoutside, the figs lappedthe sky like pea blossom and lemon juice.The glass, a white diamondrefracting all that quiet on the gloom. I miss you most of all, my darling.Heat fogged the window like two lovers in the backseat,jazz flute on…

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Blue flowers in the foreground, with a setting sun reflecting off water behind.

Tangled Overcast

by Andrew Furst i am not wanting light. but i warm to it, moving with the situations towards the angels i’ve been looking for. equaling the coastline and the sparkling worldliness of sunsets the new year tries to rebuild me as springtime meadows are constructing summer out of the long…

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A polluted river with smokestacks in the foreground. Image by Kelly from Pexels

Shaded In

by Chris Litsey My outlines were drawn in with horse hoovesAnd fleur-de-lis stabbings, tinging the linesWith a ruddy, rusty coloring that reminds meOf my blurred, wavy reflection of the wide,Wild river I called home, but the effectsOf the Commonwealth never seeped pastThe bold lines that could be made outFrom farther…

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Empty grocery aisle with a small shopping cart. Image by Tumisu from Pixabay

A moment

by Anna Dodson A part of me thinks I loved you mostthat summer. Amid sickness and in health,we took the furthest parking spot,then plundered empty grocery aisles. Each with our own mini-shopping cartto parallel-play in hoodies and shorts,we blocked an entire row. You said,“Aren’t we being so domestic?” You stood…

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A black-and-white photo of a bald man riding a lawnmower over the grass of a lawn.

i’ve seen them happy

by Andrew Furst it strikes me how people who want to stay the same have to change so much. so much, that the tides seem to move with them, a busy kind of inertia. i’ve seen them happy, i’m sure of it. cleaning their gutters and mowing their lawns. savoring…

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