Embedded Files
Specific Gravity
Specific Gravity
by John Zedolik - Pittsburgh, PA
by John Zedolik - Pittsburgh, PA
My tears wash the hard woodof your box but cannot percolate down to revivify your ashesthat lie sealed within, waiting
for a resurrection beyondthese footings and destinations we take as home in ourlimited ability and state where the only alchemyis to burn the body to this square of mass heavierthan an equivalent order of lead the ancients and medievalswould take as the starting point in this processon the road to gold where my steps now are notheaded as I deposit that which remains upon a gentle seatthat will ferry you to the end lower than I can reach in mycapacity currently so weak and laden with carved cedarthat pulls down, beyond root, down++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
We cannot go any furtherthan this exchange at the checkout, for I fearthat I am now an occasional irritant who asks her if shehas been writing, to which she has responded, “no,”with every bag and purchase. * For my next, I will offerto desist from my familiar question and only encourageif she agrees to my advice. She only has to price my itemsand charge the cost after all. The choice to create may be silent,and hers alone to tally in hours unemployed.++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Life during a time of plaguerequires attention to the once ignored or at best lightly thought:warm water and slickening soap, separation of fingers from eye, nose,and mouth, distance and breath between one’s body and all others— those quotidian connections that escape notice in days of routine,where we see only lineaments, skimming of a quick sketchbefore flipping to the next page. But these naked hours on hours demand hunkering down into the details, fleshed out,nerved in bold-thought stroke.+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
for a resurrection beyondthese footings and destinations we take as home in ourlimited ability and state where the only alchemyis to burn the body to this square of mass heavierthan an equivalent order of lead the ancients and medievalswould take as the starting point in this processon the road to gold where my steps now are notheaded as I deposit that which remains upon a gentle seatthat will ferry you to the end lower than I can reach in mycapacity currently so weak and laden with carved cedarthat pulls down, beyond root, down++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Retail Limit
Retail Limit
by John Zedolik -
by John Zedolik -
Pittsburgh, PA
We cannot go any furtherthan this exchange at the checkout, for I fearthat I am now an occasional irritant who asks her if shehas been writing, to which she has responded, “no,”with every bag and purchase. * For my next, I will offerto desist from my familiar question and only encourageif she agrees to my advice. She only has to price my itemsand charge the cost after all. The choice to create may be silent,and hers alone to tally in hours unemployed.++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++Pittsburgh, PA
Required Care
Required Care
by John Zedolik -
by John Zedolik -
Pittsburgh, PA
Life during a time of plaguerequires attention to the once ignored or at best lightly thought:warm water and slickening soap, separation of fingers from eye, nose,and mouth, distance and breath between one’s body and all others— those quotidian connections that escape notice in days of routine,where we see only lineaments, skimming of a quick sketchbefore flipping to the next page. But these naked hours on hours demand hunkering down into the details, fleshed out,nerved in bold-thought stroke.+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++Pittsburgh, PA
At least 20 More Years!
At least 20 More Years!
by Linda Amos - York, PA
by Linda Amos - York, PA
With his eyes gluedTo her butt hugging short-shorts,As she walked out-of-the-doorAnd out-of-his-life,He decided...That she looked damn goodFor a great-grandmother,And that she was so full of self-assuranceThat she could pull of that same lookFor at least the next twenty years!+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
She'd lived aloneFor yearsShe'd curtailed herCarnal appetitesShe'd loved and lost -And there wasNo one to offer toOr to give her affection to.No one to give her tenderness too, either;To laugh with her,Or to share in her moments of joy.
She'd lived aloneFor yearsShe had an old dog as a companionBut he never kept upHis part of the conversation;No matter what she said or did!++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Aching With Loneliness
Aching With Loneliness
by Linda Amos - York, PA
by Linda Amos - York, PA
She'd lived aloneFor yearsShe'd curtailed herCarnal appetitesShe'd loved and lost -And there wasNo one to offer toOr to give her affection to.No one to give her tenderness too, either;To laugh with her,Or to share in her moments of joy.
She'd lived aloneFor yearsShe had an old dog as a companionBut he never kept upHis part of the conversation;No matter what she said or did!++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
BETTY
BETTY
by Jon Bush - Belmont, MA
by Jon Bush - Belmont, MA
About Betty, it behooves me to say, as away of introduction, that I wouldn't bedoing half so well without her. In fact Iwould say she is the key to my survival. And at times like these we all need Bettyto work her magic. Everything in goodtaste of course. Here she comes now.
Greetings, Those who know me well know I amnot one to shirk the difficult questionsof the day. But even I must admit thatthis one is a whopper. I think it is time for a virtual realitycheck. For this I am just one girl, notthe Good Lord Almighty. But I can ferret out the weaselswhen I am called upon. There is some real hard candy tosuck on materializing now in thesequestered homes and institutionsand it is boredom and stagnation. Those are your weasels. For awhile it was all in good fun,but this is ridiculous. I miss the common touch. Or any kind oftouch. Even a good smack, becausethat would be real. We are in the middle of a globalcrisis and there is no reliable guidebook to instruct us how to achievea workable solution to this. And that's not funny. So what is the point in belaboringthe obvious? If nothing else I havea refined and exquisitely honedawareness of the obvious and thatwhich just won't do in polite society. Dignity always trumps moronicbehavior, whining, and complaining. We are all soldiers in this war, wemust do our best. That's not funny,on the other hand it might be helpful. Now I am going to mix myself anice stiff drink and kick back for theevening and watch Family Feud andreruns of The Price Is Right. Be a dearand turn out the lights when you leave.• * * * And just like that, Betty fades intothat special place that only Betty canreally comprehend, where the air issweeter, and life's worries driftharmlessly away. This is a world that Betty hasmade for herself. You and I are butpassing travelers here, tiny blips onthe radar, grateful for the scrapsBetty throws to us. Forever in lovewith her. And that is true peace of mind.
Jon Bush Lexington Street+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Greetings, Those who know me well know I amnot one to shirk the difficult questionsof the day. But even I must admit thatthis one is a whopper. I think it is time for a virtual realitycheck. For this I am just one girl, notthe Good Lord Almighty. But I can ferret out the weaselswhen I am called upon. There is some real hard candy tosuck on materializing now in thesequestered homes and institutionsand it is boredom and stagnation. Those are your weasels. For awhile it was all in good fun,but this is ridiculous. I miss the common touch. Or any kind oftouch. Even a good smack, becausethat would be real. We are in the middle of a globalcrisis and there is no reliable guidebook to instruct us how to achievea workable solution to this. And that's not funny. So what is the point in belaboringthe obvious? If nothing else I havea refined and exquisitely honedawareness of the obvious and thatwhich just won't do in polite society. Dignity always trumps moronicbehavior, whining, and complaining. We are all soldiers in this war, wemust do our best. That's not funny,on the other hand it might be helpful. Now I am going to mix myself anice stiff drink and kick back for theevening and watch Family Feud andreruns of The Price Is Right. Be a dearand turn out the lights when you leave.• * * * And just like that, Betty fades intothat special place that only Betty canreally comprehend, where the air issweeter, and life's worries driftharmlessly away. This is a world that Betty hasmade for herself. You and I are butpassing travelers here, tiny blips onthe radar, grateful for the scrapsBetty throws to us. Forever in lovewith her. And that is true peace of mind.
Jon Bush Lexington Street+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
IN LOVING LITERARY MEMORY
IN LOVING LITERARY MEMORY
(The world lost our literary brother, July, 2020, but he will forever remain in our literary hearts.)
No Bridges
No Bridges
By d.n. simmers – British Columbia, Canada
By d.n. simmers – British Columbia, Canada
"It was like a language that wasno longer a bridge between people."Robin Blazer Across a street merchants hawk their goods.While on the other side, faces are lookingfor a fix. Shooting up all along the edgeand down into the underground washroomswhile security keeps the deals outside. Rain and the darknessdoes not stop the actionwhile the petals of eyes dim. Deathworries comes through the bodies.While there are sales of glasses andSun hats across the street has a patrolcar come by and stops a man who isskin and bones. Flipping out.High on something. His voice issinging a song of the day and thepolice wave him on. He disappearsbetween pockets and legs andskirts and the bags as people. Others wait on the corner in queues for thebusses as the rain starts. Comesflashing down. Silver metal.Bouncing over and across from onestreet corner, to the other.++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
After Paul Durcan There is a black hole up therenear the moon. It ejects objectsthat are memories. They float back downto the earth. They are digested by the landand the sea. While the black dog in the airshakes out more fleasships and carssteel helmets and old swords. He is an old creaturethat must have been stayedand was forgottenwhen the ancient gods left.
Our ships fell out of the sky
Our ships fell out of the sky
By d. n. simmers – British Columbia, Canada
After Paul Durcan There is a black hole up therenear the moon. It ejects objectsthat are memories. They float back downto the earth. They are digested by the landand the sea. While the black dog in the airshakes out more fleasships and carssteel helmets and old swords. He is an old creaturethat must have been stayedand was forgottenwhen the ancient gods left.By d. n. simmers – British Columbia, Canada
IDOL GOSSIP
IDOL GOSSIP
by TerryLee - San Antonio, TX
by TerryLee - San Antonio, TX
"It's Friday! It's Payday!" "This is perhaps one of the best Rock 'n Roll song-lyrics ever written. Well-balanced, and succinct, iambic pentameter. The chorus, itself, is a brilliant conceit (an elaborate metaphor). All it needs is music."by Milo Rosebud, Editor, LONE STARS Poetry Magazine. "I am not the kind to kiss 'n tell;This is the story of a jealous man.I call this one:
My Girl, tell me, what am I to do?I Love you so much, I just don't want to share you.But, everytime you get a call from some old flame song,I go so crazy I could scream your name out in the hall. At a movie, to a dance, for a drive, a kiss or two;Best friends, and lovers; ain't nothing we wouldn't do.True romance novels got nothing on we two.That's what friends are for, tried and true. My name on your lips is the song I long to hear.To the tune of I Love You, it'd be music to my ears.Now, this life's a small town, and idol gossip makes the news.But, everybody knows I'm in Love with you. Chorus: ("Wait for it ...")Just like Long Tall Sally, Oh Donna, Peggy Sue;Proud Mary, Sweet Cherry, and Suzie Q;Gloria, Lil' Sister, Linda Lou;Heart 'n Soul 'a Rock 'n Roll 'a; I'm in Love with you." by TerryLee © 2020 from SONGS UNSUNG.Published in OMNIFIC 1991.Presented at Sun Poet's Society, Aug. 17, 2016.++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
IDOL GOSSIP
IDOL GOSSIP
By TerryLee – San Antonio, TX
By TerryLee – San Antonio, TX
My Girl, tell me, what am I to do?I Love you so much, I just don't want to share you.But, everytime you get a call from some old flame song,I go so crazy I could scream your name out in the hall. At a movie, to a dance, for a drive, a kiss or two;Best friends, and lovers; ain't nothing we wouldn't do.True romance novels got nothing on we two.That's what friends are for, tried and true. My name on your lips is the song I long to hear.To the tune of I Love You, it'd be music to my ears.Now, this life's a small town, and idol gossip makes the news.But, everybody knows I'm in Love with you. Chorus: ("Wait for it ...")Just like Long Tall Sally, Oh Donna, Peggy Sue;Proud Mary, Sweet Cherry, and Suzie Q;Gloria, Lil' Sister, Linda Lou;Heart 'n Soul 'a Rock 'n Roll 'a; I'm in Love with you." by TerryLee © 2020 from SONGS UNSUNG.Published in OMNIFIC 1991.Presented at Sun Poet's Society, Aug. 17, 2016.++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
DQ
DQ
By Tamara Fey Turner – Mission Hills, CA
By Tamara Fey Turner – Mission Hills, CA
I’m sorry we are not togetherWriting this togetherIf only the windmills remainedAs real for you as they did for meAs real for me as they did for himAlthough I have definitelyLived a life as insane has hisPerhapsI tooWill find sanity before deathOr at least let that be toldFor insanity does not kill usRather keeps us mostly melancholyWith only brief bouts of colorOr windmillsAs life and its pains are enduredWe must remain detachedAs we are broken and aloneKnowing that we must die same +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Anger calls DevilNever to serve or protectDestroying freedom+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
From Found Notes of Leak Hughes
A dog slept with us.A dog ate with us.A dog loved with us.A dog named Smudge.
He was a gift of love.He was a joy to love.He had no fear of love.He taught me how to love.
I remember the day I found him.I remember he was second choice.I remember the day he found me. I remember we were familiar.
She named him; I didn’t.She trained him; I didn’t.She worried about him; I didn’t.She needed him; I wish I didn’t.
There were times when he would sing. There were times he would play.There were times he would pout.There were times.
I always wondered how he knewAbout the things, I know he knew.I never liked to leave him – he knew.When I was right or wrong – he knew.
When times were unbearable, he was there.Times were never unbearable when he was there. Times were meaningful when he was there. I remember when he was there.
Smudge was young, and I was youngSmudge was bold, and I was bold.Smudge was great, and I was great.Smudge grew old, and I grew old.
I remember how I used to show him off.I remember how he was a show off.I remember how he would show us off.I remember him well.
You know he was just a dog.You know he had problems to deal with.You know I helped him.You know.
She loved him more than I did.She thought the world of him.She showed how much she loved him.She was loved.
He always was faithful.He always was predictable.He always was loyal.He always was.
A dog slept with us.A dog ate with us.A dog loved us.A dog named Smudge.
I miss him.I know she misses him more.He didn’t have to miss us.You know.
For anyone reading this who knows or ever met and spoke with Coach Robert Leland Hughes, you know…you can hear his voice, speaking these words. I did my best to write it, the way he would have written it, if he had written it.Tamara Fey Turner+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
C10
C10
By Tamara Turner – Mission Hills, CA
Anger calls DevilNever to serve or protectDestroying freedom+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++By Tamara Turner – Mission Hills, CA
A Dog Named Smudge
From Found Notes of Leak HughesA Dog Named Smudge
By Tamara Fey Turner – Mission Hills, CA
By Tamara Fey Turner – Mission Hills, CA
A dog slept with us.A dog ate with us.A dog loved with us.A dog named Smudge.
He was a gift of love.He was a joy to love.He had no fear of love.He taught me how to love.
I remember the day I found him.I remember he was second choice.I remember the day he found me. I remember we were familiar.
She named him; I didn’t.She trained him; I didn’t.She worried about him; I didn’t.She needed him; I wish I didn’t.
There were times when he would sing. There were times he would play.There were times he would pout.There were times.
I always wondered how he knewAbout the things, I know he knew.I never liked to leave him – he knew.When I was right or wrong – he knew.
When times were unbearable, he was there.Times were never unbearable when he was there. Times were meaningful when he was there. I remember when he was there.
Smudge was young, and I was youngSmudge was bold, and I was bold.Smudge was great, and I was great.Smudge grew old, and I grew old.
I remember how I used to show him off.I remember how he was a show off.I remember how he would show us off.I remember him well.
You know he was just a dog.You know he had problems to deal with.You know I helped him.You know.
She loved him more than I did.She thought the world of him.She showed how much she loved him.She was loved.
He always was faithful.He always was predictable.He always was loyal.He always was.
A dog slept with us.A dog ate with us.A dog loved us.A dog named Smudge.
I miss him.I know she misses him more.He didn’t have to miss us.You know.
For anyone reading this who knows or ever met and spoke with Coach Robert Leland Hughes, you know…you can hear his voice, speaking these words. I did my best to write it, the way he would have written it, if he had written it.Tamara Fey Turner+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Looking Back
Looking Back
By Michael Shane Love – Lake Stevens, WA
By Michael Shane Love – Lake Stevens, WA
Looking back to the dayour mother died.Looking back to the day.Lord how I cried. Looking back to the daymy ex-wife broke my heart.Looking back to the daymy life fell apart. Looking back to the dayBaxter was hit by a car.Looking back to the day.It is not very far. Looking back to the dayI attempted suicide.Looking back to the day.How I felt dead inside. Looking back to the daysmy moods cause hurt and pain.Looking back to the daysknowing more still remain. Looking back to the dayswhen I was not this way.Looking back.Looking back.Trying my best every day.++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Better Days
Better Days
By Marlon Jackson – Bronx, NY
By Marlon Jackson – Bronx, NY
Life brings obstaclesSlamming down like rocksYet I still breakthrough,till I reach the top anddaily I pray that whatevercomes my way, will soon be better days+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Yesterday and today you crossed my mindAnd now here you are I had to go see youAnd express how much I was thinking about you.+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
It goes by fast.Where did it go?Life is the same.Where did the time go?++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Thinking of You
Thinking of You
By Marlon Jackson – Bronx, NY
By Marlon Jackson – Bronx, NY
Yesterday and today you crossed my mindAnd now here you are I had to go see youAnd express how much I was thinking about you.+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Time
Time
By Marlon Jackson – Bronx, NY
By Marlon Jackson – Bronx, NY
It goes by fast.Where did it go?Life is the same.Where did the time go?++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
IN LOVING LITERARY MEMORY
IN LOVING LITERARY MEMORY
(The world lost our literary brother, January, 2020, but he will forever remain in our literary hearts.)
The Way to Faerie
The Way to Faerie
by Matthew Anish - New York, NY
by Matthew Anish - New York, NY
I opened the door and saw an enchanted forest growing from the verdant earth Gorgeous aromas and the sound of a river greeted me One believes there is still magic in the world when that door is opened Multi - colored flowers line the path Walking in the beneficent landscape One feels a sense of awe Creation is something to contend with ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
He seemed to bejust a Ranger of the North The folk around Breeknew him as Strider But there were some thingsthe crowd at "The Prancing Pony" were not aware ofThis "Ranger" was descended from a long line of kingsHe was Isildur's heir A glorious lineage!When the hobbits saw him in They knew not his true identity They feared him - Sam was ready to fight for his master's life Aragorn won their trust Due to his protectionthey made it to Rivendell Where Aragorn's love awaitedArwen Evenstar and Aragorn were desperately in loveArwen knew she faced the doom of Mandos if she wed AragornYet she was willing to give up eternity for the true king of men
Isildur's Heir
Isildur's Heir
by Matthew Anish - New York, NY
by Matthew Anish - New York, NY
He seemed to bejust a Ranger of the North The folk around Breeknew him as Strider But there were some thingsthe crowd at "The Prancing Pony" were not aware ofThis "Ranger" was descended from a long line of kingsHe was Isildur's heir A glorious lineage!When the hobbits saw him in They knew not his true identity They feared him - Sam was ready to fight for his master's life Aragorn won their trust Due to his protectionthey made it to Rivendell Where Aragorn's love awaitedArwen Evenstar and Aragorn were desperately in loveArwen knew she faced the doom of Mandos if she wed AragornYet she was willing to give up eternity for the true king of men
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