Skimming Sideways When you reach that magic agewhen no player picks the magnesium trickfrom your sandwich, you’re wont toexhale red notches, the kind mountaingoats rejuvenate when they wash up inForge Village.  Disgruntled cherry pickers, notwithstanding,if you have never smoked a dobro guitar, ordwelt in the doldrums of twin religions,Go ahead and cancel your contract, they’ll… Read More Three poems ~ poetry by Frank William Finney

Around a felt-top table in Al’s faux-walnut-paneled breezeway, a small group in northwest Iowa — farmers, bookkeepers, stay-at-home moms — gathers for a game of Texas Hold ‘em.  Though Bicycles are dealt to each player, it’s the booze and the tobacco, a little weed and a little speed that are the true calling cards. priorities… Read More Game Night ~ poetry by Julie Allyn Johnson

Letter to Bernadette Mayer March 13th, 2020 I’m drunk and in the dream of how things get written. Not eating   running at least three miles a day, water and some good rye from out east of Salt Lake  tides me over. I have been fostering this idea where I send you some money soon… Read More Letter to Bernadette Mayer ~ poetry by Andrew Romanelli

AUTHOR’S NOTE: These are found poems for which I used the January 2020 issue of O Magazine as my source material. For each poem, I would start with a word or short phrase, then move forward until I found a new word or phrase that joined it in an interesting way, and keep going until I had… Read More Three poems ~ poetry by Marilyn Cavicchia

4, the tendons of the foot, sinew stretched taut as rubber bands, cat gut. 4 is also an exposed thigh bone, close to an (n), horizontal and lateral lines on a map of a body flayed open for investigation. 4(e), a silent scream, or a smile, a sarcastic smirk, a laugh aborted. Two teeth missing,… Read More On Paper ~ poetry by Holly Day

Multihyphenate With a swish, he departed the foyer, a small trail of rhinestones witnessing his farewell (coordinating the seemingly incommensurate, like making friends, never worried him.) Most tenders of criticism on his projects fell away, wordlessly (any limits imposed Were for others’ work, least he neglect the surrounding conditions of his genius’ foci.) Essential fights… Read More Two Poems ~ poetry by KJ Hannah Greenberg

1. Absorption I’ve spent decades bioaccumulating PCBs, manganese, & especially organophosphate pesticides —my mother and I both l0ved apples. All us kids on the block followed the mosquito trucks on our Schwinns & Huffys breathing malathion and tHermal oils then for dinner potatoes, spinach strawberries doused with repeated chemical washes and now my nerve signals… Read More If I seem distracted, I’m working on my party trick ~ poetry by Lisa Bledsoe

All the pictures on my account are at least five years old. If your pictures aren’t recent don’t bother matching. About me: My kids don’t speak to me and I avoid my neighbors as much as they avoid me. I watch ten hours of television a day and I’m banned from commenting on most news… Read More Tinder Swipe Left ~ poetry by John Tustin

I read that Eddie Van Halen died and my mind immediately turned to Valerie Bertinelli, the Valerie now, the one who judges children’s baking skills—skills I’ll never have and am not too interested in having—and how sad she must be even though things didn’t quite work out between the two of them all those years… Read More [I read that Eddie Van Halen died…] ~ poetry by Christina M. Rau

Gagootz: Staten Island for zucchini, from the Italian cucuzza. My husband used to call me his gagootz, a term of endearment like cute, when he started to call me cunt I moved to another state. Now, I am the caregiver of my ancient mother. All day the TV blasts, MSNBC our Big Brother. It could… Read More The Gagootz ~ poetry by Vicki Iorio

turtle race at Northeastern University, 29 foot marathon course – Billy the Kid reenactment, cow chip tossing, world championship cornstalk shoot – Esley Hallett’s historic timepieces: water clocks, sundials, hour glasses – International Worm Fiddling contest – gondola on the Wabash, village of violets, house of “Little Boy Blue” bird carving in Salisbury, bump-jumping in… Read More Alternative America ~ poetry by John Grey

I. Those years of words unspoken simply thought and kept to the self may never emerge, lost to time under tension. II. He asked for extended kindness. She extended it, and he didn’t take it. Kindness wasted by the wayside. III. I don’t know what to say here. IV. There’s something about reflection in rippled… Read More Oranges (for Frank O’Hara) ~ poetry by Christina M. Rau

Some pre-calc (binomial formula – for expanding (x + y)-to-the-n ) I’m sure you’re a most loyal FOIL-er and I’ll never be a FOIL-spoiler but when n, for its britch gets too big, you should switch and be to this formula loyaler. (the non-minimum continuum) Real numbers are squashed as can be. They’re locked in… Read More A Factor of Minus-One ~ math limericks by Marion Deutsche Cohen

To touch the sky, grope it illicitly — Megan’s law for the ephemeral bits of nature, to be on a watch-list for (a lack of) life — for a vomit of – what we shall call “gesticulatory punctuation.”       Oh, cheers and jeers coming down like a ballast, a ballast with a bible… Read More Success Man ~ poetry by Michael T. Smith

Author’s note: “I call this and similar digital poems ‘vaiku,’ or visual haiku, not strictly syllabic but Western haiku, to use Kerouac’s term, brief illuminations rendered in the haiku spirit. These works utilize public domain materials with hand-painted and/or hand-drawn elements.” Frederick Highland’s novels Ghost Eater and Night Falls on Damascus are published by St.… Read More I’ll Mend ~ vaiku by Frederick Highland

Sometimes there is summer. Sometimes there’s an episode of Lost, but only a moment, the smallest moment, where mangoes are bountiful, the music triumphs, the moment where a castaway and a beach resort have few degrees of separation. Sometimes I think Lost is something I should mention in a poem, an ABC drama could somehow… Read More Re: How Are You? ~ prose poem by Sutton Revell

Rotation around an axis brings out the best in scalawags since Justice’s reach can’t otherwise touch janky persons or their kin. Accordingly, when sizing garapa for doghouses, cabin interiors, Also luxurious kitchen floors, it’s best to disregard frivolities like Pyrographically-inscribed poppies, puppies, wildebeest designs. In homes or industrial uses, planks mean “structure,” “durability,” “Low maintenance.”… Read More Poppies and Other Frivolities ~ poetry by KJ Hannah Greenberg

Yuan Changming  published monographs on translation before leaving his native country. Currently, Yuan edits Poetry Pacific with Allen Qing Yuan in Vancouver, Canada. Credits include ten Pushcart nominations, eight chapbooks,  and publications in Best of the Best Canadian Poetry (2008-17) and BestNewPoemsOnline, among others. Show Yuan some love via PayPal at magyuans(at)gmail(dot)com.

Alas and a muchness, whether Iran’s ayatollahs, Europe’s Nazis, or stupid heads running Washington, world rulers remain awfully derelict; they’re compromising Eretz Yisrael. Yet, Guyana, Comoros, relatively, have “barely frightening” comportment per pallid leaders’ Intelligence (global ophidians generally forget about justice and countenance suffering.) Transnational kingmakers’ choices won’t forsake hatred. Their penchants cull outmoded, Misguided… Read More Responding to the Scions of Anti-Semitism ~ poetry by KJ Hannah Greenberg

CHAMPIONS  NEW SAME GIN JACK HEALTH SPORT Go You’re Way Now   PAT MASTER became an early maker of ready-made clothes – it’s make your body glad   LOVE & QUEST Chrono 7 romantic character soft rich pleasure constant use daily pleasure   Quarter century The Pre-Miracle Years 1957-1965 The Wonderful Adventure Trough The World… Read More Sweatshirt Haiku ~ poetry by bart plantenga

Around foreign towns, all mutts begin to bark en masse. Seen beside a lazy, plumed lizard asleep and hazy, sunning on a bare, flat rock such musicality unsettles; and thus mirrors qua Hermes’ baleful caution: Let’s not relent! Scalped by psyche’s past or divers ill fortune, how decipher such a black-swan, wan event? Populaces dimly… Read More Male Sperm Counts Are Falling All Across the Western World ~ poetry by R. J. Keeler

so green is the leaf clinging steadfast to its branch it defies classification even by the wind that wishes only to call it sail I have known wasps rail and sting merely because I happened across their flight paths the sea does not cease for me on anyone— immortal heart even though I can’t breathe… Read More Grief Rhymes with Yellow ~ poetry by Lana Hechtman Ayers

Author’s note: “When I was a school bus driver, I was motivated to write this by two ten-year-old boys who rode on my bus. They shared their story with me about seeing two girls who attracted their attention over the weekend at a shopping mall. Grammar and spelling idiosyncrasies are the boys’ doing.” The author… Read More A-Hoot A-Hoot Sexy X-E ~ poetry by Bowser

DEAR ZOMBIE LAUREN, I, acknowledging yr existence An unknown percentile O’ present day Mutation of civilian Reptile mute-deafened civilization Through differing dialect Between bandit and breather Of paint red evenings out Woman about town Full familiar laughter Gullets full fodder A movable feast Supply and demand of the resource Pack rabid; feral Craze-brained fundamentalists With… Read More Dear Zombie Lauren ~ poetry by Kristopher William Locke

1. A constant stream of entertainment requires that my organs stand at attention even my spleen 2. My bartender used to line up my empties on the bar to sucker newcomers into playing pool against me 3. In my youth I chose rationality over irrationality because I was terrified of my mental illness I eventually… Read More Standing Spleen ~ poetry by Mitchell Krockmalnik Grabois

MAILER DAEMON dead letter regret if never sent re: gret if said too much to much too little grow as narcissi  blind echo  deaf centrifugation of tongue calibration of tone concertation of two 1 win come twin come seek the conjoinal scars we share Michael A. Griffith began writing poetry after a disability-causing accident. His… Read More Message ~ poetry by Michael A. Griffith

I really miss Patrick Swayze. I heard that song on the radio and thought of him again and again and it played every time I drove and I missed him more and more and then I saw that he didn’t actually sing it. It’s Eric Carmen’s voice but that didn’t change how much I miss… Read More [I really miss Patrick Swayze] ~ poetry by Christina M. Rau

“Remember this?” I inquire, holding up the indistinct plaything, a dog, maybe. “You used to take this around with you everywhere, you always had it.” I don’t know why I say it. I think it’s a test. I observe the blank gaze change to recognition as she takes the toy, turns it over and over… Read More Memoir of Another World ~ poetry by Holly Day

I warned you darts with advice strong words tripping over emotions like an imbecile– so you think you’re Leonard Cohen loving some naked Nancy in a cluttered matchbox apartment overlooking European culture simulated, above some obscure narrow Montreal street? For your information, straight poetics from insanities Almanac, Leonard Cohen died years ago in a twisted… Read More Unknown Poet from Rue Montpelier ~ poetry by Michael Lee Johnson

February 14, observed in honor of St. Valentine, a martyr of the third century, beheaded in Rome. —Random House Dictionary Dismemberment of a junked disk harrow proceeds evenly and eventlessly. The earth of Lincoln County petitions lithe, dank, midmorning fog to settle low. The fog is dense and, like a just-washed shroud, droops to raw… Read More On the Earth of Lincoln County, Washington, on Saint Valentine’s Day, 1993 ~ poetry by R. J. Keeler

Poem made from movie lines spoken by actor Laird Cregar, who died in 1944 at age 31 Mr. Samuel Laird Cregar Eventide Section, Lot 37, Space 2 Forest Lawn Memorial Park Dearest Haunter: You’re a pretty cocky fella. You’ve had your own way for a long time. Oh, I know your type. Your act is… Read More Love Letter to My Favorite Ghost ~ poetry by Pamela Miller

Maternal Instinct Swearing is brave. That’s just my opinion. My mother didn’t like it. She didn’t like shit! or other filth Dad passed on. It would have been brave of her to one day leave the kitchen and turn to say if you don’t like it don’t eat it, damn it! You fuckin’ gluttons– you cook it.  Be brave when things boil, save leftovers for me.  I’ll be on the town, so suck it. But she’d never say that, and we did act like such morons. Not swearing, she was still brave, being a mom and trying to like it.   obituary for a credit card they called you Visa but I called you Lover 16-digit magic man you fed me when your dirty brother debit card deserted me someone stole your heart abused you down to negative 399 dollars I went years without you wheezing powerless but you came back to me a polyvinyl boomerang with me now my rectangular amour but I give pieces of you away till you are near zero but still I keep you at my butt cheek pressed and arched when I squat desperately for pennies I extract you from my wallet with your pulsing hologram hawk your plasticity and potential so stoic erect so plumped to take my wishful charge then you expired– a crib death in my wallet… Read More Three Poems ~ poetry by Marc Darnell

Exiter Riddles III. I place my emphasis on penetrating Matters: desiderata as the personal Errata satiates my savagery, and I, Its. Cynical, meticulous, the mapless Man in white officiates my yaw, These graceless arabesques into and through Internalized, familiar song-and-dance, The names and reproductions of delights, Etcetera. The wizened wizardry I whiz by Has taught… Read More Two Poems ~ poetry by Jake Sheff

The house was yellow. There was no wind. All night the porch howled. (Wind howled my yellow house inside your porch) We fucked against the wall. The sofa sat on the dog. Your lies coated my teeth. (We fucked the sofa and the dog sat on lies) Afterwards, we ate spaghetti with our fingers. Tomatoes… Read More (not) thinking of you at 3 a.m. ~ poetry by Cinthia Ritchie

Jonathan Stark lives among the hills of the lovely Ohio Valley, sharing his little slice of heaven with his sweet wife and three ambivalent cats, and serving up steaming bowls of rich, creamy wisdom to anyone who wants it.

The lady who kept her lover’s used Trojans in a shoe box, anglers in a dirt-filled aquarium, to feed her four hens along with their own eggshells— the lady with the toy poodle always sniffing the cat’s ass, a first edition Yeats on the shelf— dreamed she lived by the sea, on the outskirts of… Read More Sign of Jonah ~ poetry by Anna Cates

Well, I guess the skyscrapers need to be there, they create jobs and jobs create love between people, and people buy houses or rent apartments and make places like Walmart vacation destinations, and then the schools fill with more children and while the parents are away working or driving around looking for a fix, the… Read More Some Call It Destiny ~ poetry by Jeffrey Zable

Black Brassiere From the top of the Roman arena I watch groups of schoolchildren move in clumps and think: Children are not our future They’re merely the next set of pawns Across the street on a balcony with cracked tiles an old woman hangs out wash— black brassiere, black panties Maybe she’s doing laundry for… Read More Two Poems ~ poetry by Mitchell Grabois

Jack Shannon is a hoarder of appliance operation manuals from Pianto, CA. His goal is to write a novella based on the Sears Kenmore electric range instruction book, which is definitely overly complicated.

obituary for a tornado we will cherish the 33 minutes he had on earth axled out of the sky in the devil heat of early spring an ess butter knife May baby, a Taurus bull-strong for his age a constant feeder not letting go of the earth’s bosom unless to wail like an ogre infant… Read More Three poems ~ poetry by Marc Darnell