Category: Poetry

time comma maybe – Colleen Choate

time comma maybe
to lower standards
necessary foodstuff
is i) coffee smell
ii) wildflowers comma
dried iii) wool
sweaters –  I
miss your skin
smell comma warm
comma always?

(trails on) (bellies on)
the way you on

tetley tea to go on
for the length of your fall
rain my lungs are
our house with blankets
in our chests catching
throats cabin smell (n):
smoke (wood kind)
mold (allergic kind)


isolated ecosystems
built & collapse
overnight over minute
but when I bump you
synapses start running
electric & yours do
and then you
run into someone
who runs
into me &
this is an ecology

he’s nowhere near himself – Barry Jones

cat and I long to you for
watching down to care for you
bloodwork and cat to I’ll vet you
I, neurologist and cat in Winston, I’m just the that um,
Hello, that’s like an on and of and up to him
sort of don’t know anything the happened, just, yeah I
somehow see that he would do better
I’m can’t
the floor
not just purr but
he him was picked
I don’t close, got crated, have problem
somehow see that
we’ll—see—we’ll take that but I, this
the scans, the moving not
mornings that run, flop
alrights we’ll see him go
better take care that
little of it that goes let be
the shhh-no stop
I’m you afternoons
still you
to the here to the well, there
crumby crystals broken
stomach yowling now
in throbbing heatstroke night,
I see
go to him
poor guy
the crated crystals that’s around
flop here, know of him
but yeah just letting that pain
look likely x-rays, just…

before you run home
are you still there?
before you run home well
that room you trouble
that door that’s not himself
I, little,
you, out
on the back deck on painkillers
I’ll rubbed your head
him, um,
him, um

Alright sounds goodwelllet me know how that goes I guess.
I’m sorry what?
Let me know how that goes.
I can’t understand you
Okay, I will, I’ll give you a text message and let you know how he’s doing.
Okay, actually, if you could give me a call that’d be better. Just, text message just feels too weird
to talk
about that sort of thing?
OkayWellthank you!
Okay, I love you!
Love you too. Bye.
Alright, bye.

Death Comes for Russell – Barry Jones

with a vision of a wolf charging me
for the conversation a round thinking

                a greasy hair bit (my brain matters)
                a big ol’ good morning   you falls
                in my lap      I remember to stop
              crediting myself with other people’s thoughts

fret on the table

                                                from four words i am running
                                                say good morning harshly
                                                       start texting all of you
                                                “before funny, humans wouldn’t talk to each other”

my nose chills
so do we

                                                                                i remember the seventies
                                                                                I built a coffee table      not
                                                                                my dad he wanders stretching
                                                                               out      my stomach         piping
                                                                                “little boys, strong and able!
                                                                                keep those elbows off the table!”
                                                                                       I don’t have to listen to him some
                                                                                sort of metaphoric reverse birth
                                                                                shut him up and he’s just crushed.

with   vision of   wolf charging me
for something I didn’t buy
i hit you up      we do ’t chill
offer   you gum or a cool thought
without              the second one
so I you we (talk about pronouns!)
more than ourselves
dumb things like

                                                                                                                I chew 40 times before wallowing
                                                                                                and I swallow my “to you” with my good morning

without fear of judgement dad

Starfish – Anonymous

star shaped pieces of plastic
deer park
                        spring water
                        aluminum pepsi
reverse action of throwing starfish
they fly out of the ocean
into the side pocket of his backpack
across the appalachian parkway
            it mattered to that one
            it mattered to that one

it mattered to me.

Achares – Anonymous

Moving on like a horseshoe

            thrown ding deserving
and birthday cake   ——–   not welcome cake

bitter because of lemon rinds
sweet because
                        —- well
                                     —– cake.

   do we get trapped in                                                                               Lucho,
           the idea of                                                                                     did you find
   un   conditional   love                                                                    a four leaf clover
   does   it grind     you                                                             on the   day   you   met   her                  
   up   or is that just me                                                          is   love   lucky   like   a horseshoe   


                                           thrown ding deserving
                                             good aim, that kid.

mountain withdrawal – Alex Tanner


                                                                                neighborhood traffic     eight-cylinders
                                                                brake less for speed
                                                                 bumps . nasal





                                                                                                                                                drip of dendritic

                                                                                                                                branches                                                                                                                                                                ,


                black tar apertures          innervate a skeletal canopy                         smack
                   dab in a joint                      of tracked hills.







                                                                   snow-plastered front lawn

                                                 skim milk     special k     porch couch     coffee dregs     brittle white

                                                                               light . hands     going cold



                                                                                                                                                                   habitually shaking

In The Future We Became Props Or Forgotten – Alex Tanner

Salvaged bits of shriveled grape tomato for breakfast burritos.
Cooked too much rice so they were tacos instead – the tortilla
was kind of over-crispy anyway. Your diligent appreciation of
hot sauce slipping out in casual coos. Mishaps steam off a plate
of small joys. Draped over each other and not particularly
excited about the prospect of being real humans, we let
Netflix run until it asked us “Are you still there?” Ran up
the electric bill a buck or two sleeping. Drove you to class
in a jacket and boxers, went back to bed and dreamt about


                                prehistoric art museums.

Lawn Detailing – by Ellen Farkas

50 years experience 
rendered new 
                for plugging and 
                re-seeding           Flower-bed  
                preparation        Leaf removal- 
                                                                      False bush, 
                call me.