Being Human Is Easy Breezy by Sarah Sarai

Being Human Is Easy Breezy Someone turns on the lights And the factory keeps buzzing Then foreclosure and Whatever was done is done. This thing can be done In a Jello-mold kind of way, The way of marshmallows Claustrophobic in lime green Aquaria and yearning For women whose bodies Mean something, Broad-hipped women with Heavy …

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The Prayer Thermos by Al Ortolani

The Prayer Thermos All night rain, waking      to mop the prayer           from my sleep                               When I was a young man working at a gas station, a season’s rain fell in one afternoon. No one bought gas. Cars at the used car lot floated away down Turkey Creek. Their recently waxed roofs shining in the current …

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On My Back by Jon Bennett

On My Back At the ½ way house one of the counselors got Parkinsons He could still hoist the 20 gallon water jug onto the dispenser but then he couldn’t and became slow as a tortoise, couldn’t do the bed checks anymore and was finally let go A while later, while I was working graveyard, …

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Empty Holes for Eyes by Juliet Cook

Empty Holes for Eyes These recurring false awakenings feel too close to vivid comatose states of horror that never end. I look at myself in the mirror and have no eyes. Then I realize if I really had no eyes, I wouldn’t be able to see. Which means I’m still stuck in a dream. What …

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The Queen of Texas by Misti Rainwater-Lites

The Queen of Texas When my maternal grandmother was still relevant she fried porkchops. She fried chicken. She fried okra. She fried bacon. She fried sausage. She dunked cookies in coffee. She burned trash in a barrel. She answered phones. She tickled backs. She told stories. She sang songs. She broke fevers with cold wash …

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THE POLISH HAMMER POETRY CORNER: Holy Toledo (pt 2) by Karl Koweski

  Holy Toledo (pt 2) I woke up the morning of the Underground Lit Fest snuggled in a warm bed, absolutely ecstatic I didn’t spend the night in the backseat of my Jeep, which seemed a very real possibility less than eight hours earlier. My wife roused herself, stretched, asked me what poems I intended …

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Apple-Polishing Rag by Jack Phillips Lowe

Apple-Polishing Rag It’s 1:30AM on Tuesday. I have a job interview scheduled for today. But I don’t want to go. The job is dull and dirty. It will not offer me enough payroll hours, a wage equal to my years of experience or satisfaction of any kind. It will offer me a weekly paycheck— the …

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Richard Modiano reviews Trying to Catch a Flame in this Windstorm at the End of the World by Steve Henn

Trying to Catch a Flame in this Windstorm at the End of the World by Steve Henn (Arroyo Seco Press) Steve Henn’s Trying to Catch a Flame in this Windstorm at the End of the World is a raw, funny, and unflinchingly human collection that feels like both personal diary and public confession. The poems …

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Because Death Is Real by CL Bledsoe

Because Death Is Real Because death is real, I overwatered my pansies the day after it rained. It’s the last thing I’ve got. The last thing alive in my life. Because death is real, I blocked you on my phone, but not on social media. In case you want to ask why. Because death is …

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Clods of Mead for the Ancient Mind by Ryan Quinn Flanagan

Clods of Mead for the Ancient Mind The world is a small place if you crawl back into the womb. When I hold my hands out, it is with a moderate disbelief more than faith. Dirty dish water after the dinner hour rush. Clods of mead for the ancient mind. Movie theatres let out into …

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