Home Poetry - Year V - Number 33 - February 2020

Poetry - Year V - Number 33 - February 2020

    FILE NUMBER 20 by Ken W. Simpson

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    FILE NUMBER 20by Ken W. Simpson  Homo Sapiens Cloven creaturesdeodorised archetypesrevived as beaststo satisfy heredity’sneed for greedstinking of sanctitybefore the resurrection.  Amazing Grace

    PERHAPS YOU UNDERSTAND by George Eklund

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    PERHAPS YOU UNDERSTANDby George Eklund  Perhaps You Understand I’ve done what I could do.If you want to mutilate me, then you will.I cannot row very far...

    GLITTERING ROMANCE AND OPTIMISM by Benjamin Biesek

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    GLITTERING ROMANCE AND OPTIMISMby Benjamin Biesek  Glittering Romance and Optimism “After I had combed / the confetti from my hair” Ralph Sneeden

    TEARS OF SPADES IN AMERICAN BLUES by Mettamodernist

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    TEARS OF SPADES IN AMERICAN BLUESby Mettamodernist   Julia Dream,Dream of a key,A key to unlock all your doors I am your abyss, your good fix, your...

    WHAT WILL BE by Daniel Senser

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    WHAT WILL BEby Daniel Senser  Watching My Roommate Sleep For Tom The old man snores like the windAnd the rumbling of rock-fall.What dream...

    APOLLINAIRE by Timothy Robbins

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    APOLLINAIRE by Timothy Robbins  Apollinaire This morning I read Apollinaire’s “Zone”and thought him silly. Meaningbeing a vagabond, his being a vagabond,it’s no surprise he wanderedalong silly’s crooked paths starting...

    OUTDOOR SHOWER by Katherine Carlman

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    OUTDOOR SHOWERby Katherine Carlman  Hollow Things  Like the shell of a chocolate hare, upon the slightest pressure from an eager child’s hand causes it to give...

    DAYTIME TV by Ian Ganassi

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    DAYTIME TVby Ian Ganassi DAYTIME TV I used to wonderAbout Captain Kangaroo’s uniform;We knew Mr. Greenjeans had green jeans. You never know it’s...

    THE CLASSICAL DEBT by Susan Ayres

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    THE CLASSICAL DEBTby Susan Ayres  THE CLASSICAL DEBT             we will never repay the debt we owe Greece.—Stephen Fry, Elgin Marbles Debate            ...

    IT’S NO PICNIC WHEN THE WORDS ONE SPEAKS ARE IMPELLED by Susan Sonde

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    IT’S NO PICNIC WHEN THE WORDS ONE SPEAKS ARE IMPELLED by a hail  of white fury and to know that the psychic bruise, the terrible corsage...