Category: Poetry

A HOARDER BY VINCENT BELL

Back when circuses were still fun, the big ones always had a clown car which stopped in the center ring illuminated by a single spotlight. Clowns kept jumping out; even the littlest kids understood it was a trick, but we all...

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A RUNWAY TOO SHORT BY VINCENT BELL

Finally, I was able to say that I wanted to be a poet even though I understood that I would be trying to take off on a short runway. The nightmares started immediately: accelerating down that runway but never fast enough to get...

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WASHING BY VINCENT BELL

The first bath that I remember was at the hands of my older sister. My mother was glad to delegate her child rearing tasks. It was an old bathroom in the city with white tiles covered with thin black lines, varicose veins,...

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GENTLE READER BY JONATHAN BRACKER

The blurbs on the back of the travel book In the free bin outside the secondhand store Made the book sound affable. The man Took it home with him as a possible pal. The volume was by a male. Happy to sit In his favorite chair by...

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GLOBAL EXECUTION BY SUSIE TIERNEY

The man roused to madness Buried beneath singed leaves Bewildered by his surroundings Scanning the desolate upland His movement stirred a vile stench Shifting ashes exposed decomposing flesh He jerked up right aghast Uncovering...

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REGRET BY SUSIE TIERNEY

Across the unbroken sea Moonlight traced far beyond the horizon Making its way back to me Gut wrenching in turmoil, debating Never one heartbeat filled without doubt My mind blocking rational thought Blinding lust proceeded...

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IS THERE A GOD? BY MARIANNE LYON

Given up on old bearded man in cloud-dimpled sky rewarding punishing gilded palace for only goody-two-shoes   Even New-Age-Heaven right here, right now is hard to trust Hell—much easier to believe in Is dry flaky skin a...

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ALLOW BY MARIANNE LYON

Near my window I recline at sundown to ponder hallowed things. I asked myself what would it be not to choose this or that fear or fallowed wants but allow chisel in my hand to carve a masterpiece out of marble like Michelangelo?...

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THE HERO’S JOURNEY BY KAREN JANOWSKY

His sole split down the center, heel hung out and hitched on a thorn, stained a white rose with his blood. The story set him forth. A prick scratched over his shin, a gash slashed on his brow from a razor leaf   in a vertical...

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