Sunday wears a coat of dusted dreams.He creeps up like October wind,dirt and harvest in his palms,sprinkled lightly over Communion wafers.Come evening, he sleeps at inns,several, for he is many colors,and rain creeps in through cracks like snowmelting seeps into the ground.A pitter-patter of his toeas he holds his vigil by firelightcheese and bread in…
Tag: poem
Personal Ad: Must – Rachael Z. Ikins
Like long walks on the beach to bury the bodies. Must havesense of subtle fragrance,denouement. Skilled digger, farenough from the water, ocean claws back allof our leftovers for the crabs. Leave hair clips, buttons and can-tabs for crows. They thread sprigs of rosemary through tab rings with beak and claw, drop them like May Day…
The Art of Magical Overthinking – Trisha Leigh Shufelt
I’m an artista painter, and a poet du jourmaster of many mediumswith inspiration galoremy art carries a hefty price tagI’m known by my namelove me or hate memy art is never the sameyou see, the best art is the artI create in my headat night, when the world is asleepmy art haunts me like the…
True Crime: the Inheritance – Rachael Z. Ikins
Wheelchair’s smiling tires said, find me dead, chase my husband.And yes, she lay like a wrapper used-up.Disjointing shadows, stairs, one afternoon, A radiologist, a chest surgeon, studied the X-rays. No chocolate bar shatters into such shards;fat fingers, brown beneath manicured nails.*****Young physicians, inexperience, stuck lips shut around this mouthful.Husband, boss, moved his money, girlfriend to…
We, the Unhinged (are so good-looking…) – Stephanie L. Harper
—An In-titled Poem* On earth, do unto others as earthlings do: one) share the long and winding roads; two) greet strange hearts with song; three) there are worse things to endure than thanks unearned, so sing through too-guarded grins, laughs, disdain, the too-long glares, and so on. Wouldwranglers worth their weight in weenies let their…
Embryo – Candice Louisa Daquin
Give it upthe child in utero hearsevery word and movesbeneath her green ribkicking outGive your life upto the Cruelties and theirsharp teeth, glintingwith a surging metalsomewhere brutal & coldAn oily moon wanespalpably in ashen skyif she could talk; her wordswould reek of regret &the insoluble grief of an observerHer hands are old, belie her true…
Trickster – Allister Nelson
God may have made the universe:rosy, baby’s breath sweet, butTrickster spiced the worldscattered dream-dustover the Rockies, stole firefrom God’s throne, knittedwoman and want from burningfennel stalk, danced beastsinto life and fluted plantsinto fruition, kissing thetoes of maidens and ticklingyoung girls nine months in. Photo by Gioele Fazzeri on Unsplash
Heretics, Lovers, and Madmen 