Friday, September 21, 2018

day SIX HUNDRED and TEN


sick with joy while the streets fill with blood

doesn’t take that long to
find a man willing
to set the sleeping child on fire

doesn’t feel like a day where
i’d decide to kill myself

blue sky and the shadows of clouds
crawling like
cautious cancer across the hills

news of the war or its aftermath
and then the whispered rumors of a new enemy

a better drug

the machines of business
fueled by the corpses of patriotism
and so i tell me son i love him

i close my eyes against the
approaching winter

i trust no one who
claims to have never been lost

--John Sweet

Thursday, September 20, 2018

day SIX HUNDRED and NINE

DOES SHE HAVE WARRANTS? ILLEGAL DRUGS? OPEN CONTAINERS OF?

This is how the world ends
one person at a time
one car careening into a wall
one driver falling free from her seat
one car smoking and a flick of flame
the asphalt slippery with gasoline
the stonework fence fractured
the police on the way.
This is how her world ends

and, yes, even though she tells us
I’m OK. I’m OK. She’s not OK.
her hands shake, her words slur,
she can hardly stand straight,
walk straight, pimples of blood
outline her forehead, her neck

Her friends—are they her friends?—
Tell her to run, leave the car.
It’s all right.. It’s all right. It’s not all right.
Get everything out of your car.
Do you have dope? Have you been—
It does not matter. She goes to her car,
she rocks near it, she steadies herself,
she tries to start it—this is how
the world ends for her this night.

--Michael Brownstein

Wednesday, September 19, 2018

day SIX HUNDRED and EIGHT

               
                                         Photography By Jessica Fenlon
                                         http://www.sixth-station.com/

Tuesday, September 18, 2018

day SIX HUNDRED and SEVEN

Two People Making Art

There is nothing more awkward
the way your body moves
your hands not sure what to do
the way you can’t look at each other
or stumble over words
blushing and glancing about
starting
and stopping sentences.

It would be easier to strip right there,
to slip your shirt over your head
undo your bra
to unbutton your jeans
let them fall to the floor
awkwardly climb out your boxers
horribly aware of your love handles.

In fact it would be easier
to do this in front of everyone
yes that would be easier
two people having sex
is less awkward
than this
terrible moment
of two writers
talking after a reading
trying to offer
their poetry books
to the other
wanting but
not wanting
to want
any
money.

--Ally Malinenko



Monday, September 17, 2018

day SIX HUNDRED and SIX


Avoiding Traffic on the Morning Commute


One eye open
sipping drive-through coffee
two lanes filled with parked cars
at my exit to work

with a quick rear-view glance
I gun the engine, skirt the traffic,
and take the next exit, slow-boat my way
down side streets to the office

It is a warm spring morning
as I pass a tractor-trailer
on my left, passenger side window down,
a beagle with its head out in the wind
ears flapping, tongue lolling.

Best thing I’ll see all day.

--Shawn Pavey

Sunday, September 16, 2018

day SIX HUNDRED and FIVE


Crazy

Doubling down on cruel,
racist and stupid,
Klu-Klux-Klanner-in-Chief
bloviates via Twitter.
Calls for immediate deportations
of undocumented asylum seekers,
denying due process.

A clueless FLOTUS
negates her purported
compassionate field trip,
wins the Marie Antoinette tone-deaf award
by visiting child concentration camps
wearing a jacket bearing the slogan
I Really Don’t Care – Do U?

From coast to coast,
untethered authoritarianism
ignites growing bipartisan mutiny.
Awakened people of conscience
stand up, speak out,
refuse to accept one more extremist,
unconstitutional outrage.

--Jennifer Lagier

Previously published in I Am Not a Silent Poet

Saturday, September 15, 2018

day SIX HUNDRED and FOUR


mediocre white american man

the
mediocre
white
american
man
sits
on
his
porch
blasting
classic
rock
draped
in
his
flag
drinking
a
can
of
light
beer
as
all
the
tired
people
trudge
home
from
work
to
bask
in
all
his
mediocre
glory
because
there’s
really
nothing
else
that
they
can
do
about
it.

--John Grochalski