What's the sense
Everybody's talking at the same time
The phone's off the hook
Yet, still, there is a ringing in my ears
Shereen Asha Murugayah
She smells wet sheep
at a traffic light,
unfathomable expressions packed
into a red truck.
A car shoots past,
trailing a shout
she pretends not to hear.
When I lie awake at night
I stand asleep
say "get out!" to ghosts,
wake up, "sorry"
In the recurring Surrealist nightmare
there’s a sewing machine and nowhere to place it
except on the dissecting table;
string surrounds it because, hey,
why leave anything to chance?
Only one baby still cries
in the hospital nursery—
I’ve never seen her face.
I must have gotten
the sugar right
because lots of hummingbirds
in the rain.
Hexahedron / Mont Blanc de Cheilon: Crux
A fall can erase a summit,
but not the other way around.
A crux has twelve edges,
six sides: a bruised sky:
there is little time
Matthew Bainbridge secretly fills notebooks with words, while publicly filling magazines with words and pictures. Oh, and he used to drive a boat for a living.
When not getting lost in the Cascade Mountains with her Thai Ridgeback, Waffles, you can find Ally Bebbling reading, writing, and fending off ghosts in her haunted Bend bungalow.
Al Bright is a 24-year-old poet born and raised in West Virginia (yes, people still live there). Typically you'll find her reading Bukowski or partaking in keg stands.
William Cullen Jr, a veteran who works in social services in New York City, has work that's recently appeared or is forthcoming in Gravel, Heartwood, Switchback and The American Journal of Poetry.
Merridawn Duckler is a poet, playwright and the author of Interstate, forthcoming from Dancing Girl Press and the rare soul who knows frottage is not a kind of cheese.
Howie Good is hitchhiking through the apocalypse.
Kevin Hudson is 23, from Cardiff, UK. He has had work published by Planet Magazine, shortlisted for the Welsh Young Writers Trust Prize, and has just completed his first novel.
Artist, poet, and freelance writer, J.I. Kleinberg tears up magazines in Bellingham, Washington, and blogs most days at thepoetrydepartment.wordpress.com .
John Langfeld: I am a retired musician and arts educator who believes that, in the forest and on top of desks, digits make noise. My poetry has been called epigrammatic, a term joined at the hip with “aphoristic” and “apothegmatic.” I prefer the moniker “brevitist.” It is easier on the tongue.
Hiram Larew's poems have appeared most recently in Two Hawk Quarterly, FORTH, Lunaris Review, Voices of Israel, and Viator. He lives in Maryland and is a global food security specialist. On Facebook at Hiram Larew, Poet.
When he is not writing, José Enrique Medina enjoys playing with his piglets, bunnies and baby chicks on his farm.
Diana Morley now writes and walks along the Bear Creek Greenway in Oregon, but will never forget October 4, 1961.
Born in Malaysia, Shereen Asha Murugayah is pursuing a PhD in science in New Zealand. Her work has appeared in Rambutan Literary and the Poetry New Zealand Yearbook 2018.
Laurence O’Dwyer holds a PhD from Trinity College Dublin. He has received the Patrick Kavanagh Award for Poetry, a Hennessy Irish Writing Award and a fellowship from The MacDowell Colony.
Tamra Plotnick's poetry and prose works have been published in various journals and anthologies. She teaches high school at the in Manhattan and lives in Brooklyn with family, dancing intermittently.
Mary Bass Poulin’s poems have appeared in Southern Poetry Review, Progenitor, and elsewhere. She has an MFA from Vermont College, teaches at Thomas College, and lives in the mountains of Maine.
Joel Savishinsky, a retired anthropologist and gerontologist, is author of Breaking The Watch: The Meanings of Retirement in America. His poetry has appeared in The Avocet, Windfall, Crosscurrents, and Xanadu.
Antonia Smith is a high school student living in Auckland, New Zealand
Lee Varon is a poetry, fiction and non-fiction writer. Her work has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and published in various journals.
Mike Wahl is a poet of opportunity, grabbing concepts and phrases from observations in his rural northern Alabama surroundings, and from the intrigues of family, politics, and religion.
Bob Whitmire divides his time between writing, staring out the window, walking, and spoiling his grandchildren—and meditation while riding a motorcycle along the backroads of Maine.
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