View from the room with no windows - by Jennifer Lewallen

Sometimes I get the feeling that I am not insane. No matter how many times the 6-foot white rabbit appears. Maybe when I’m alone smoking and drinking my coffee in the evening hours, I’m truly not alone. read more...

Couldn’t you come over? - by Zita Mirabal

Because all the mouths moving in synchronicity with the clock couldn't prompt me to reveal the hazardous thoughts invading my mind like the vandals on the roof top next door, lurking in the sleeping stillness of the night back when I was five or six years more...

Luna Primavera - by Emily Cordes

are you lonely
as the world teems beneath you?
Even now,
an opalescent bride
bearing ripe fruits
and lush open blossoms,
can you sense the chill
sparkling in the ember’s core?

Because I Write Poems For Guys I Like - by Emily Cordes

Bad poetry thrives on desire.
Honeytongued dreamers,
more tubercular than lovesick,
flock around the altar of Eros,
clamoring for ambrosial more...

A nice boy - by Monica

Once upon a time not so long ago and very close by, there was a girl and, as most stories go, she met a boy.
Well, this Girl met a few: there was Assholeboy#1 and Assholeboy#2 and Suicideboy and Alreadyhasagirlfriendboy, etc.
Until one day, she met a not so asshole-ish boy – she met a nice more...

Made In Mexico (& we tend to pay less) - by Audri

She's a knee rising to cover face immolation
huddled in Mexico paper sun stains
red clay hands to reach for
hummingbird amulets off dirt roads
& day of the dead posters
the same day she hit hands first
cement flecks under skeleton skin

The Birds of Laysan Isle - by Dayna Desastre

April 24th, 1923.

This is the day they watched the Laysan Apapane bird more...

Leave It - by Alyssa Max

you're smiling and it's making me smile
I want to put my hands in your hair
and leave them there
you're joking with me and I laugh out loud
I don't want to
you don't care

nature has not mother - by Audri

her hand shaking
set record breaking appeal to the nights
where she stayed nocturnal
sitting on bubbles and trees
resetting the sun

4/8/07 - by Sukha

from this unremarkably grey
seeming to be asleep sunday
from this day
of rememberance
of radical
rising up's
of remembering
to remember to
rise

The Writer’s Challenge - by Veronica

Break the sound barrier. Revel like a madwoman in the noisiness. Bask like a lizard in the heat of the noisiness. Bask in the pleasure of creating sentences. Bring the sentences together to form meaning. The meaning should reflect your meaning, for I cannot trust you if your words do not bring you some secret thrill or make your heart skip a beat. read more...

True North - by Linda Solomon

A compass that will not fail.
We are, I am, deluged in so much information
That my mind is short circuiting all over the place.
Sparks are igniting fires everywhere.

magick is radical - by Francesca Lia Block

this little boy says he can understand what cats say
and i believe him he looks like one
slight and feline black hair shiny smooth as fur
but he also tells me magic isn’t real
repeating what someone has given him
thinking it was a gift, a tool
magic isn’t real
only pretend

The American Future: Religion - by Dayna Desastre

Cameron appeared before the shepherds like a glittering, opalescent myth. Pearly white and well-lit from the blazing florescent lights, and glowing like a dawn-bringing ether, the pale canary-yellow tendrils of his curled mane rustled softly in the light breeze from the air conditioning and his skin-coated in rhinestones of sweat-glistened like cleansed more...

Bobo - by Monica

Bobo, the clown, walks in and sits down.
He cornrows his hair and looks at the ground
His shoes are too big
They stomp on his hat
He screams so loudly, "Would you look at that?
My brains have fallen out my ears and my eyes
There is no room now for the tears from my cries!"read more...

Diner at The Bowling Alley - by Zahra Lipson

A constant state, sort of addiction, this waiting.
The road pulses incoherently, mumbling its hurried sonnet,
and our desperate sun, incongruous gem, beats its unwanted more...

Anatomy of this Moment:
A Semi-Poetic Stream of Consciousness - by Emily Cordes

Picture this moment like a snapshot.

I can hear the booming bass of my next door neighbor's rap music pounding through the walls, mingling with the deeply intoned "Om Namah Shivaya" of my Krishna Das. The strange musical lovechild of a hip-hopper and a hippie, born between the walls of an ancient dorm, filled with women who try to ignore the threat of a two-minute burn time posed by the straw insulation within said plaster more...

Mermaid - by Tracy Pitocchelli

Under my nightgown strap it’s crimson, defiant. I say it’s a mosquito bite, not a boy bite. My father doesn’t believe me, he says, “yeah, right,” and “you’re disgusting”.read more...

A Ghost and Closeness - by Zahra Lipson

The white cotton space between us
becomes an intimacy on its own
as daytime stumbles in, slow refracting rays
dusty and wine colored
glaring at Three, thinning at Four

Forgetting the Flood - by Katie

"We, amnesiacs all, condemned to live in an eternally fleeting present, have created the most elaborate of human constructions, memory, to buffer ourselves against the intolerable knowledge of the irreversible passage of time and the irretrievability of its moments and events." *

For Luisito - by Francesca Lia Block

Oh, the world is not coming to an end.

But then, why was Luisito shot at 7:30 in the evening stepping off a bus to get medicine for his brother?

Shot in the clavicle. He may never speak or walk again. read more...

The shepherd who wasn’t so good - by Luiz Calado

I watched this movie the other day
Dubbed the “the birth of the CIA”
But before all the buzz goes away
Here are a few words, if I may

2012 - by Vixie

I will still be young.
I will be 23.
I am seventeen.
Not as sweet as sixteen.
I sometimes want a baby;
To calm this heaving complex within more...

Hearts In The Soil - by A. Lorelle Rieflin

I always wanted to be The Hyacinth Girl. To wrap my hands in soil and stand, under the downpour of rain, where one would see me and fall in love with the flowers in my hair and the rain on my skin, and not care at all about the mind in my head. read more...

The beautiful people - by Dayna Desastre

i think the most beautiful people are dead people. they are always the most stunning, secretive; as if leaving a legend behind is enough to cater beauty. read more...

Stars, Moons, Uranus, Neptune and Mayans, Oh My! - by Linda Solomon

In March of 2003, Uranus entered Aquarius - the sign it rules - and Neptune had been in Aquarius since 1998. In March 2003, Uranus entered Pisces. Uranus remains in Pisces until 2011. This creates something called “mutual reception” in astrology. Neptune moves into Pisces in 2012 and, interestingly enough, Pisces is the 12th house in the Zodiac wheel, completing its cycle through the wheel into its own house. Uranus begins its new trip around the wheel in 2012 when it enters Aries. This coincides closely with the end of the Mayan calendar in more...

The year in pictures - by Francesca Lia Block

i saw madonna with her daughter who looks like a painting of an italian angel and her son who looks like a little british punk rocker and the malawian baby she and guy are going to adopt and that led me to a web site of images of last year

Grass will grow - by Sukha

grass will grow... steady and slow... in it's own time and it's own way...

wind will blow... above and below... carving the green with an unseen knife

life will live... wild and unruly and out of controlread more...

Earthquake Dreams - by Judith Martin-Straw

How can I tell you a story I don’t want you to hear? It does not make me look good, and it certainly does not make you look good. I know you’ll find the part with your name in it, and you’ll be angry and disgusted with what you did, and even more upset that the whole thing hasn’t been buried and forgotten by now. In fact, I don’t know that there is any hero in this story at all. Perhaps only the survivors, and only they know if they deserve to be lauded for their continued existence, or reviled for their more...

Untitled - by Cheryl Moss

How to be free, how to be free
When all I see
Is the mess around me?

Vanagon Ready - by Brandon Peterson


I’ve got my vanagon ready but it leaks a little bit and moss grows inside sometimes.

It’s an eighty-one, one of the first square kinds.

It came free with little amenities. It’s got wood bumpers.

Well, now it’s got just one – I hit a friends concrete carport and it broke into toothpicks.

It was a hazard so I had to remove the more...

2012 - by Allison Powell

In the year 2012 I will turn fifty and the book of time cracks its own spine.

Imagining the future is the game of scientists and children rolling marbles and haven’t we all played?

The grass will be pink, skyscrapers seventeen miles high arc over the wafer of petrol blue air between Earth and Universe, Whales read our thoughts into sonnets, porcupines sing, it is possible to build a highway of dandelions.

Can you see it?

Extinction - by Francesca Lia Block

the earth was crying trying to cool

her blistered skin with tears

the polar bears died without their ice

those sad little fishes

the birds with burnt wings

what have they done to us

Last Night (01/08/07) - by Sukha

hot summer january night

twilight zone ishly

surprising me

as i step out into the

balmy palmy desertlike

A Question of Timing - by Luiz Calado

As I start assembling these words in a blank page, still far from the completion of any kind of manuscript, I am grateful to you for reading it.

As these letters and numbers make way into your intellect, they become vibrations – thoughts in the form of energy. Decoding this message (made of symbols from an alphabet) is, in itself, spreading the word – therefore, thank you. read more...