Poetry - Year V - Number 35 - April 2020

WITH A GUITARby Mark J. Mitchell  A SURBURBAN SEER’S MORNING DREAM Her morning dreams sprouted flowers with namesinscribed on each petal. They bloom. No fruitemerges, but people die. Their small gamesend sharply. A hasty burglar slips....

MAKING LOVEby George Payne Making Love the way astarving coyoteneeds the Mooncrimson &skeletalyour handswere needed  Simplehands  risingon thechest your jeanskicked offthe bed you wereneeded chrome ionplated stainless witha leather strap at the edgeof the pillow stuck betweenthe hours in theamber of now a vaporoussweet oliveblack night My...

EPHRAM PRATT REMEMBERS TWISTING & TURNINGby Jack E Lorts  Ephram Pratt Speaks of Whispering Quiet the noiseof the carburetor, or is it a carbunclehe asked, in muted silence,of a passing stranger,one with shaggy locks, looking as ifhis eyes emerged from an...

FROM ABOVEby Roger Singer  FROM ABOVE  the bones of wordsremain behindlike rumpled sheetswithout memory of sleepas day tossesa mixed salad of walkingand arriving the hours melt intothe water of day time slows foranxious eyeswhile rain marks windowsand umbrellas...

Gnawing at the Flesh Teeth gnaw at the flesh belowhungry to erase what was once sweet. There is a throbbing beatingat the rhythm of a dying heart. It feeds to grow like a playing ballmade of rebar...

EXHALEby Diane Webster  DEATH BURIED Plastic tulips and silk rosespretend they grow aroundmy parents’ gravestone. Still not allowing themtruth after all these yearsdead in the groundin their forever-home caskets. Stone-faced names chiseledlike Russian smilesin black and white photosof...

THE SHALLOWby Ambrose Gibbs  The shallow earth to live for what life is worth, for the birth of a child in this wild society full of poverty to be shallow on the roads of anxiety...

IMMORTALITYby Manuel Madera  ImmortalityConfessions last—       The snow plummets to    The nameless ground we  Have crossed and hopped        Along the sidewalk of evermore   We stroll and skate       I did not know           I did not   Whether true...

AMERICAN IN BRAZILby David Lee Garrison Last Look, Lisbon, 1965 The troopship was leaving Lisbonfor the war in Angola,its deck covered with soldiersgazing back.  Heavy sun fellon their shoulders, and their shadowsdarkened the armored steelthat knifed...

SPOT ON MY BACKby George Thomas SPOT ON MY BACK three timesI've lost the whole shooting matchas Zorba might saythe whole catastrophe multipliedthere's a spot on my backthat hasn't been washedsince my last divorceI go through...