Inner by Dan Provost

I’ve tried to understand

what the inner is.

 

Rummaging through

emotions and escapes

 

That were both destructive

and enlightening…

 

Although it is so

simple to label one as

a prince or the

pauper.

 

Christ, it’s easy to

label anyone today.

 

Can someone try

to save a suicide today?

 

A simple gesture

on the sly will suffice.

 

Letting me know you're

more in the loop,

 

than

me.

Dan Provost's poetry has been published throughout the small press for many years.  He is the author of nine books and lives in Berlin, New Hampshire with his wife, Laura--and their Bichon Frisce...Bella.

ADDRESS-FREE by Alisa Velaj

I was address-free until yesterday,

living in my own universe

between the sky and the earth,

under the same roof as valleys,

mountains, clouds, and trees.

 

One later day the sky emptied out,

andI suddenly found myself

naileddown to a roofless earth.

 

There, no one found me anymore.

 

The partnership with motionlessness

turned out a much better deal...  

Alisa Velaj was born in 1982 in Albania. She has been shortlisted for the Erbacce-Press Poetry Award in 2014. Her works have appeared in more than 100 print and online international magazines. Her poetry collection, With No Sweat At All, will be published by Cervana Barva Press in 2019.

Art by A.S. Coomer

 

A.S. Coomer is a writer and musician. Books include Memorabilia, The Fetishists, Shining the Light, The Devil's Gospel, The Flock Unseen, and others. He won the Thelma's Prize in 2016 for his poem "I'm not sure how I feel about the sound," which was judged by Catfish McDaris. He was commissioned a Kentucky Colonel in 2019. He runs Lost, Long Gone, Forgotten Records, a "record label" for poetry. @ascoomer www.ascoomer.com www.ascoomer.bandcamp.com

Inhalation by Puma Perl

Your mother really did a job on you,

said R, noting my panic

at unanswered text messages,

my tendency to think anyone

who didn’t respond

must be dead or disabled,

my inability to separate

feelings and actions

 

My cataclysmic thinking,

he called it

I understood why

he took off,

although it wouldn’t

have killed him

to say goodbye

 

I even understood

when he hooked up

with the girlfriend

of a younger friend

I don’t know what

bothered me most,

her age, or his betrayal

 

Wait a minute…

I’m lying again

I understood nothing

except his need to leave

once he recognized

the nature of the damage

 

He wrote me a letter,

said he’d call

Luckily, he never did

I might have answered

 

Love isn’t about bandages

or alcohol poured

into open wounds

It’s not even about

understanding

Just clean up your mess

and let others

inhale and exhale

without direction

or critique

 

Control your breaths

and leave everyone else

the fuck alone.

Photo credit goes to Dina Regine.

Puma Perl is a widely published poet and writer, as well as a performer and producer. She is the author of two chapbooks, Ruby True and Belinda and Her Friends, and three full-length poetry collections, knuckle tattoos, Retrograde (great weather for MEDIA), and Birthdays Before and After (Beyond Baroque.) She is the creator, curator, and producer of Puma’s Pandemonium, which launched at the Bowery Electric in 2012 and brings spoken word together with rock and roll. As Puma Perl and Friends, she performs regularly with a group of excellent musicians. She’s received two honorable mentions and one first place award from the New York Press Association in recognition of her journalism and was the recipient of the 2016 Acker Award in the category of writing; she lives and works on the Lower East Side.

Luck by Joan McNerney

Wearing designer clothes

and sleek jewelry,

she traipses along willy nilly

throwing  golden kismet

wherever  whimsy calls.

 

Some think luck chooses their

goodness or hard work. Perhaps

they were blessed at birth?

 

The wise know luck wears a

visor tripping over herself

favoring  both mean and lazy.

 

Luck has a toxic twin called

Misfortune covered with

gloom.  Dressed in dusty

rags, stupor-like he selects

unsuspecting victims.

 

Stomping helter skelter

clutching the throats of

both meek and mighty.  

 

Everybody who gets in his way

will be pushed down, their

muffled cries barely heard.

Joan McNerney’s poetry is found in many literary magazines such as Seven Circle Press, Dinner with the Muse, Poet Warriors, Blueline, and Halcyon Days.  Four Bright Hills Press Anthologies, several Poppy Road Journals, and numerous Poets' Espresso Reviews have accepted her work.  She has four Best of the Net nominations.  Her latest title is The Muse in Miniature available on Amazon.com and Cyberwit.net

 

 

Sorry by Wayne F. Burke'

I am standing in front of a building
downtown
waiting for the meeting
to start
a fat guy
with beer breath
melon-face
stops, asks why I stand
in front of his building
I say, "none of YOUR business,"
he says, "I live here, have a right to know
who is out front,"
I say FUCK OFF
he mounts the steps
slowly
to the top
calls back
over his shoulder
"I feel sorry for you!"
Yeah
well,
I do too
some
nights.

Wayne F. Burke's poetry has been widely published online and in print. He has published six full-length poetry collections, most recently DIFLUCAN (BareBack Press, 2019). He lives in the Pine Tree State.

The Grim Reaper by Bob McNeil

 

Bob McNeil, writer, editor, illustrator, and spoken word artist, is the author of Verses of Realness. Hal Sirowitz, a Queens Poet Laureate, called the book “A fantastic trip through the mind of a poet who doesn’t flinch at the truth.” Among Bob’s recent accomplishments, he found working on Lyrics of Mature Hearts to be a humbling experience because of the anthology’s talented contributors. Copies of that collection are available here: https://amzn.to/3bU8Loi.