by Lisa Bren
In cities with paved roads
and sidewalks, the trees
can’t get up and stretch
their legs, they’re caged,
by Lisa Bren
In cities with paved roads
and sidewalks, the trees
can’t get up and stretch
their legs, they’re caged,
Filed under Poetry
by John Attanas
In the dining room
of the Holiday Inn,
Salem, Massachusetts,
Dad has just ordered
a third vodka martini.
Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Beth Houston
It’s not a shell, as often thought, but bone,
A piece of sail cat catfish skull, the part
That looks like God hung on the cross, weird clone
Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Darren C. Demaree
I heard you call this
a history of aesthetics
& you are wrong. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by James Cariddi
The other Thursday I was sipping dark rum drifting in and
out between twelve and one watching through the smart TV
my third grainy educational video since my wife went to bed,
called “How Medieval People Got the Best Sleep in History,”
about all the cool things people did between their sessions of
natural, biphasic sleep Continue reading
Filed under Poetry