How can I pick the days of anger out of a field of happiness?

By Alexandria Somirs

Animosity’s repression dug a hole,

 I’m quite sure,

 And soon there, took residence, a contentable mole.

He lived there quite happily,

The earth above pounded with distracted footsteps,

Too quick, too impatient to let live small similes.

And down below his dependable nose,

He felt the humid silence, from where questions were posed.

“Of all the seeds that were bedded,

Of which were of anger?”

Animosity answered, “the seeds of which were buried the deepest,

The ones least likely to flower,

The ones most likely to sour,

And spoil the earth of their weeded source,

And set the field afire with their selfish course.”

Satisfied, the mole posed another question.

“Of all the seeds that were bedded,

Of which were of happiness?”

Animosity answered, “The seeds that lie on the surface, the ones I’ve not bedded,

The ones least likely to stay content in the earth and lie,

The ones most likely to shoot up to the sky,

The ones that bloom with the sun,

And feel lighter than an elephant ton.


Photo by Alexandria Somirs

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Notes from Spring

By Alexandria Somirs

For me I’m very confused of what to be.

I lay in wake of Winter’s passiveness.

She kissed me goodnight, before Autumn took flight.

I fell away while Winter stayed.

But waking now, Winter has cast her ice on me.

I try to warm her up to me, but she revolts with passive aggressiveness.

The more I wake, the less I see of her.

I walk, I run, I scour the lands until Winter slips

Away from me.


Photo by Alexandria Somirs

At Home in Mowbray

By Sebastian Temlett

                                                             She visited my room today

Falling gently on my wallF1060026 (2)

She touches my sheets, my skin

Complete and soft in her embrace

Allowing for the hard shadows

That spring up behind each

Lump and bump

Each imperfection

                                                                  The texture of lives

She has passed through cloudF1040002

Thick and set

And below, each rising

Wisp before the mountain face

Extends a ghostly arm

In plaintive plea

Then snarls into monstrosity

As its vapours find their end

and trail out

 

And swallows dance their belies full

Above powerlines and hard edged roofs

As people hole up inside

With stucco hearts and

Lonely conversation

 

And she emerges as she falls

So gently on my pillow now

As it begins to rain outside


Photo by Sebastian Temlett

5/30

by Katelynne Davis

Yesterday was his birthday
I think
I remember, suddenly, walking home
And I wonder if I should say anything
This date I pick-pocketed, and saved
I could, offhand, be the Wilde in Whitman’s den
but I let it pass
enjoying that I can
He was drunk last night, or the night before
without me, drinking whiskey
that alone is a crime
but the rest, I can forgive
Today is your birthday
my meilleuse amie
and I
sprint, just to go to the post office
to send your letter on time
and I
marvel at what my body can do
despite
all it has endured,
all it has given up.

NaPoWriMo, or National Poetry Writing Month, or 30/30, is a Poem-A-Day challenge in the U.S. after the Academy of American Poets declared April to be National Poetry Month in 1996 (making this year the 20th anniversary). At the end of the month, challenge-takers have 30 poems, roughly one each day of the month.

The Name of the Drug

By Katelynne Davis

No longer the dealer’s face and tongue, but
his pockets full of hands.
No longer his hands,
the delicate wrists, the fingers I could turn eternally, but
his pockets.
No longer his pockets, turned eternally inside out, but
their contents
No longer content
with their contents, but
their insides
turned eternally
out
of his hands.


Photo by Katelynne Davis

It Changed My Life a Little

By Issac Sullivan 

ephemeral wave
came and went quickly
thinkin’ ‘bout it still

 

followin the schedule
trusting the rhythm we’re in
till a wave took me

 

landed again soon
still feel the cloudy residue
eternal time too

 

now I see Earth build
humanity into it
not the other way

 

thought came with the wave
right on Earth to Earth live live
so needed the life


Photo by Alexandria Somirs