82. Respiratory System—a poem by Pikthall

as 

a precursor

a people

chamber the clefts

the apertures

the walls of

young gills

the primitive form

decomposed or burned

an unweaned child

taken into the lungs

then expelled

as man

_
Pikthall is a writer and the Editor of Imperative Papers. 

Lights —a poem by Wayne F. Burke

we got stopped by cops
in a show of blue light
and a cop told my cousin
"step out of the car"
and made him walk a straight line
touch his toes
and his nose
and my cousin,
as shit-faced as he was,
somehow passed the tests
and we drove off
to the club
where we picked-up two girls
and then drove up to the mountain top
with them
and parked;
the wind howled around the car
non-stop
the lights of the town dully glowed
in the valley below;
my cousin and his girl went for a walk.
My girl had bow-legs
and a pigtail;
she unzipped my pants
then pulled hers off
then straddled me
as I lay back,
then she sat and guided me
inside of her and
then moved up and down
and lifted off
as I shot
and the wind wailed
and the car rocked
and down below the lights winked
on & off.

_
Wayne F. Burke's poetry has appeared in a variety of publications. His three published poetry collections, all from Bareback Press, are WORDS THAT BURN, DICKHEAD, and KNUCKLE SANDWICHES. A fourth collection, A LARK UP THE NOSE OF TIME, is due out in 2017. His chapbook PADDY WAGON is published by Epic Rites Press. He lives, or tries to anyway, in the central Vermont area (USA).

Radio —a poem by Wayne F. Burke

he arrives in the pocket park
off Main Street
carrying a radio
and says to me
"I will shut this off in a minute"
and I nod and say "alright"
and I return to the drawing I am making
in my notebook.
"Hey! You!" he says
and I look up:
he has gray hair and a black patch over his
right eye.
"I will shut this off in a minute."
"Fuck you."
"Oh, that's nice. I am trying to be a nice guy
and I run into a grumpy old man."
"Go somewhere else and be nice."
"I live here. Where do you live?"
"Get fucked."
"And the horse you rode in on."
He sits.
A vague presence in the corner of my eye.
I continue my drawing until I am done.
When I leave
will he say "have a nice day?"
And if he does
will I go berserk?
I hear him shuffle away but
he is back in half a tick
and sits
and sticks his nose into a book
and I get up and leave
and am glad
I do not hear his voice
but wonder too
if I really do look old.

_
Wayne F. Burke's poetry has appeared in a variety of publications. His three published poetry collections, all from Bareback Press, are WORDS THAT BURN, DICKHEAD, and KNUCKLE SANDWICHES. A fourth collection, A LARK UP THE NOSE OF TIME, is due out in 2017. His chapbook PADDY WAGON is published by Epic Rites Press. He lives, or tries to anyway, in the central Vermont area (USA).

Vygotsky's Russian 1915-23 —a poem by Pikthall

the tragedy of joy

will be published

in the lights

a poem on 

private archives 

the process

multiple

_
Pikthall is a writer and the Editor of Imperative Papers. 

Gone —a poem by Dennis Paul Wilken

You are here a moment

Like a snowflake

Shiny and beautiful

Yet oddly cold,

Strike a solid something

Melt away, first water

Then air

Then nothing

Except maybe

Someone's else's

Bittersweet memory

Of the small storm

You were

On your best day.

_
"Gone" is excerpted from Wilken's book Poetry Factory (2017).

Dennis Paul Wilken is a prolific poet, sketch-artist, veteran journalist and Senior Literary Editor for The Commonline Journal. He studied at the University of Cincinnati and is a former Staff Writer for Cincinnati Magazine. His poem "Outcomes" was nominated for the Pushcart Prize in 2011. His first chapbook is called Sweat Off the Diamond (2009). His recent chapbook Poetry Factory (2017) is forthcoming from Imperative Papers.

Proof —a poem by Dennis Paul Wilken

Life is not fair
The prettiest girls
Have the whitest teeth
And the taller a man is
The longer he usually lives
Bangladesh is always
Under water while
The casinos in Monaco
Seldom ever have
A hard rain;
It's obvious
If there is a God
He or she is
A front runner who
Always plays the favorite

_
"Proof" is excerpted from Wilken's impending untitled book of poetry (2017-18).

Dennis Paul Wilken is a prolific poet, sketch-artist, veteran journalist and Senior Literary Editor for The Commonline Journal. He studied at the University of Cincinnati and is a former Staff Writer for Cincinnati Magazine. His poem "Outcomes" was nominated for the Pushcart Prize in 2011. His first chapbook is called Sweat Off the Diamond (2009). His recent chapbook Poetry Factory (2017) is forthcoming from Imperative Papers.

the temptation to want to die— poetry by J.J. Campbell

power chords
and another
round of
drinks

there's always
the temptation
to want to die
when listening
to the songs
that take you
back to so
many failures

see these scars

this hardened
skin

it's called
fucking
surviving


_
J.J. Campbell (1976 - ?) is currently trapped in suburbia. He's been widely published over the years, most recently at In Between Hangovers, Tuck Magazine, Your One Phone Call, Rusty Truck and Misfit Magazine. You can find J.J. most days bitching about something on his highly entertaining blog, evil delights.

I'm On the Bus —a poem by Dennis Paul Wilken

So many folks today carrying cell phones

To augment the ones at home

Me, a single phone MORE than enough

The jarring ring always

Interrupting thoughts, fantasies and schemes. 

Now, the added burden 

Of all your cell phones -

"I'm on the bus. I'll be home in five minutes. Love you too."

Around they go

Clutching the noisy little machines 

Scientists are saying 

Will eventually eat a 

Big cancerous hole

In their cluttered little heads:

All those mundane voices

At their fingertips

Squarely in the center of

Emptier and Emptier worlds

"I'm on the bus.

Love you, if you love me."

_
"I'm On the Bus" is excerpted from Wilken's Sweat Off the Diamond (2009).

Dennis Paul Wilken is a prolific poet, sketch-artist, veteran journalist and Senior Literary Editor for The Commonline Journal. He studied at the University of Cincinnati and is a former Staff Writer for Cincinnati Magazine. His poem "Outcomes" was nominated for the Pushcart Prize in 2011. His first chapbook is called Sweat Off the Diamond (2009). His recent chapbook Poetry Factory (2017) is forthcoming from Imperative Papers.

Cautiously Optimistic —a poem by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal

I approach with caution.
I rather be elsewhere.
I walk through the door
and up the elevator and
walk to the cubicle of death.

I am cautiously optimistic
that things will get better.
They are just getting worse.
The grass is greener across
the street because there is

not a patch of grass in here.
I approach with caution
when I cross the street and head
to the park to clear my thoughts.


_

Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal is a poet and long-time Literary Editor for The Commonline Journal. His poems in English and Spanish have appeared in many online and print journals. His first book of poetry, Raw Materials (2004) was published by Pygmy Forest Press.  His latest chapbook, Make the Light Mine (2016) was published by Kendra Steiner Editions. Luis was born in Cuernavaca, Morelos, Mexico, works in the mental health field and lives in Los Angeles CA.

Go Home and Take Care of Yourself —a poem by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal

Go home and take care
of yourself.  This is what
a co-worker told me
on the elevator as we
we headed down and
out of the office.  It is
the wisest thing I have
heard in years.  It made
the long day better.
It gave me hope and
advice to take care of
the person that should
be the most important
person, myself.  If we
do not take care of
ourselves, who will?
Work will suck the life
out of you and some
co-workers will do the same.
Not all of them have
the presence of mind
to give you sound advice.
Go home and take care
of yourself.  I like that.


_

Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal is a poet and long-time Literary Editor for The Commonline Journal. His poems in English and Spanish have appeared in many online and print journals. His first book of poetry, Raw Materials (2004) was published by Pygmy Forest Press.  His latest chapbook, Make the Light Mine (2016) was published by Kendra Steiner Editions. Luis was born in Cuernavaca, Morelos, Mexico, works in the mental health field and lives in Los Angeles CA.

My Talk —a poem by Nels Hanson

What is it, a final fatigue, despair,
laziness, self pity, pride, backbone
willing as a canvas sail, this strange

persona I catch myself falling into,
old Southwestern drawl my educated
parents didn’t have but the Dust Bowl

kids at school did, so I said kaint instead
of can’t, to get along, to speak our
common language. Now again I say

it, slow, laconic, fairly neutral, allow
all things are possible, nod good and
bad weigh often in unequal measure.


_
Nels Hanson grew up on a small farm in the San Joaquin Valley of California and has worked as a farmer, teacher and contract writer/editor. His fiction received the San Francisco Foundation’s James D. Phelan Award and Pushcart nominations in 2010, 2012, 2014 and 2016. His poems received a 2014 Pushcart nomination, Sharkpack Review’s 2014 Prospero Prize, and 2015 and 2016 Best of the Net nominations.

The Mind is Not a Skull Defect as First Reported —a poem by J. Alan Nelson

Stripped stark by the sale of his soul,
this horrible love of a sugar beauty cripples,

hollows his gut,
plants dragon’s teeth in his mind.

His questions writhe unanswered.
She works her scrapbooks,

preserves memories of her childhood
for imagined posterity

while scars engrave his confused mind.
Attracted to orderly, clean places

she generates a pile of disorder.
She declines his offer of games,

his request for dates.
She plays computer solitaire

as she listens to audio books of Harry Potter.
If she asks him to pick up box

of macaroni and cheese
on the way home from work,

she will brood for days if he forgets.
Doddered and shattered,

he journeys to the coast.
The green ocean turns red

as he bathes his hands.
He roams a harsh land,

while his love is a beautiful princess
who feels the pea

under stacks of mattresses
though centuries pass.


_
J. Alan Nelson is a writer and a lawyer.  He has essays, stories, epistles and poetry published or forthcoming in the following: Convergence, International Poetry Review, California Quarterly, Wisconsin Review, Illya’s Honey, Red River Review, Adirondack Review, Red Cedar Review, Identity Theory, Hawai’i Review, Kennesaw Review, Driftwood Review, Ken*Again, Haggard and Halloo, Review Americana, South Carolina Review, Pegasus Review, Red Cedar Review, Fulcrum, Connecticut River Review, Blue Fifth Review, Chiron Review, SNReview, American Scholar and Ship of Fools.

another one for li po —a poem by Rob Plath

sitting
w/ the cat
& a bowl
of rice
it feels
like the sand
is moving
back
upward
in the
hourglass
as an
endlessness
fills this
tiny
room
wall
to
wall


_


Rob Plath is a prolific writer and Literary Editor for The Commonline Journal. He is the author of eight chapbooks and three full-length poetry collections. His novel Swallowtude (2016) and his poetry collection The Skeleton Sutras (2016) are both forthcoming from Epic Rites Press. His webpage is www.robplath.com.

flipping through frames —a poem by Rob Plath

you flip thru snapshots
you feel jealous at how intimate
this couple seems
the imprints of her red mouth
forever up & down his cheek
their heads always temple-to-temple
as if inventing their future
the eternal cigarette they always
seem to be sharing
their hands always lifting
a drink to one another
then you summon the un-captured images
dark war-paint beneath their eyes
shards of broken glasses in their fists
like makeshift shanks
the chalk outline of their love on the floor


_


Rob Plath is a prolific writer and Literary Editor for The Commonline Journal. He is the author of eight chapbooks and three full-length poetry collections. His novel Swallowtude (2016) and his poetry collection The Skeleton Sutras (2016) are both forthcoming from Epic Rites Press. His webpage is www.robplath.com.

broken and used—poetry by J.J. Campbell

abandoned car

on the wrong

side of town

another

overdose

another

day

this

is exactly

what an

epidemic

looks like

and the

apathy

spreads

faster

than

cancer

perhaps

this is how

we're meant

to die

broken

and used

to the very

last drop

_

J.J. Campbell (1976 - ?) is currently trapped in suburbia. He's been widely published over the years, most recently at In Between Hangovers, Tuck Magazine, Your One Phone Call, Rusty Truck and Misfit Magazine. You can find J.J. most days bitching about something on his highly entertaining blog, evil delights.

Words—a poem by Paul Hellweg

A young boy I want to be
on first train ride
the world a chocolate cupcake,
vanilla icing.
Boys love trains for their romance and power
and the adrenaline thrill of adventure.
Not many boys read dictionaries,
yet words incite wars,
words formulate thoughts that win Noble prizes,
words bewitch the lonely poet in everyone’s heart.
For a heart youthful, choose carefully,
only one is the key:

A 1925 Baldwin 2-8-2 coal-fired locomotive
belching smoke and steam
wheels well-greased and clacking on
worn, smooth rails?

Or a few good words?


_
Paul Hellweg is a full-time freelance writer who has had more than 200 poems published. His poetry has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and multiple Best of the Net Awards. For more, please visit www.PaulHellweg.com or www.VietnamWarPoetry.com.