Blank Verse Handwriting so neat it could have been typed; envelope worn from international journey through the clouds; J. R. D. Tata, the first licensed pilot in India, features on six stamps in the upper left corner, but he's upside-down; I wonder if his flight was turbulent, or whether he rolled, pitched, and yawed for… Continue reading Jehangir, or: Sangeetha
Blank verse in iambic pentameter My sky is dark with black stars; together, congealing into thick syrup, even as I spread my arms; distributed as sick party favors, mementos of... need; perhaps, perhaps, preferable to my own; their deafening silence clotting my ears, coursing through twisted creases, pooling in my eyes, heavy, streaming down my… Continue reading Clap on, or: Clap off
One year older and one hundred years more experienced than he, she broke up with her then-boyfriend who was in his mid-twenties; and he thought: "Well, I'll give her one good try," as Harry Chapin once famously sang; she patronized him for months, for he was one year younger and one hundred years less experienced… Continue reading Breakup, or: Breakdown
Blank verse My favorites are the free birds that - well, you know... You know? Whereas I'm all like, 'How do I stick a whatsit into the round binkadink, wrapped in floojipples? Maybe a shibboing would do it?' I'm amazed that some of those splendid creatures don't get much attention, or sometimes are dismissed as… Continue reading Heaven’s droppings, or: First impressions
Poetry Partners #144 'Physical Ego', a poem by Alex Budris of 'Lost Continent Books' webs of spittle & a thousand multi-eyed flies like words - maggoty somersault struggles caught choking out the gasping spidernest hole of yr mouth consonants and vowels a black mass backache toothache bad bowels & black- -hearted atheism tooth over tongue… Continue reading Physical ego, or: Immaterial id
Blank verse in iambic pentameter Laziness; can't blame it on craziness - that's much too sexy, and I've yet to cut even one ear off. This constant stare-off with my own reflection on poetry websites; impressions in fast succession, forming ideas, framing works, foraging for scraps of ambrosia and digging down for diggities. Oh ~… Continue reading Wax on, or: Wax off
Bottles never used to last me too long; now cognacs and whiskeys stand around bored for many long months on our kitchen shelf. Sure, I pour a glass every so often (rarely, truth be told); but excitement's gone. Is it my writing, my medication, my age? Hard to say, but that beer I had yesterday… Continue reading Cold, or: Hot
Poetry Partners #142 'From my inner child', a poem by Maria Pavlova of 'Maria's Poetry' While many ‘Stand with Ukraine’ Or hate the Russian invaders My heart is in beautiful northern forests The place where my child’s feet stepped Feeling connection to the Earth Knowing even then that I am an inseparable part of the… Continue reading The forest, or: The trees
The Skeptic's Kaddish 🇮🇱 
You must be logged in to post a comment.