Marc Latham
Terraced Streets
Smoke.
Billowing.
From tawny
chimney pots.
On slate roofs,
pigeons perched,
cooing merrily-on-
high. Gutter divides
roof from house; four
windows, door and wall.
Pebble-dash or red-brick,
with clothes-line in-between.
Joseph Veronneau
Late Ride
At the last traffic light
there was a vague remembrance
of a thumb hitched skyward
leading one to believe in
a brief camaraderie of words
sifted out into the flashing stoplights
and the withered tree limbs dangling
to the sides.
When your face was only seen
in an off-color newsprint
to follow, the walking trust
became scarce, dulled down
into silent glares
and wonder.
Gary Beck
City Dump
Renovate your treasure room,
or waste will insure our doom.
Metal, garbage, gas and hair,
cast upon our rivers where
returned tenfold to add to blight
that withers visions of our light.
J.J. Campbell
revelations at four in the morning
the more i
yearn for love
the closer i
seem to death
and the likelihood
of either happening
are as good as me
hitting the lottery
i've yet to buy
the ticket
Julie Forbush
This Town...
this town is the measle spotted body
of an abandoned child.
a wasteland
dotted with taco vans
& desperation;
salvageable yet forsaken.
daily we pass our eyes
over the plague(s)
& hear the crunch of bone
beneath our feet
as we attempt to purchase
our peace
piece
Amy Nanette Glin
I want to live in a monastery
but I think it would drive me crazy
I will never be at peace with life
you are thinking, why am I so negative
you don’t understand, my acknowledgement is positive
so many things sound good in one breath
and unfathomable in the next
Colin James
THE HAPPY IRREVERENT
People have stopped asking me
about my parent's pink hair
and their leather jackets
being more gold than black.
I'm like the only suspect
in a murder mystery,
where there is a subtle empathy
between me and the detective
and I'm grateful for that.
