Two Poems by Maureen Kingston

The Redline(r)

 

My lyric's

trolley tracks

transect,

smile,

needle

in subversive

cross-stitch,

hop the

segregated

sampler’s

electric fence,

to link,

to outthink

the gated

‘hoods

of poetry.

 

 

 

The Un-Found Poems

 

Duotrope’s® 0.00% : zero calorie journals living on air : with no

acceptances : do they really exist? : I mean : beyond the head

of a status pin : beyond family and friends? : why of course they

do : you say : but how can we know for sure? : the Pushcart®

tells us so : (winners not nominees)

 

 

 

Maureen Kingston’s poems are forthcoming in Gargoyle, Melancholy Hyperbole, and So to Speak.

 

A Poem by James Mirarchi

ZOOM

 

Move cursor over nose, mole, waistline,

stray grey hair, camel toe

CLICK

Make bigger

until they become familiar allies

Soothing strands

to weave with

into collective patch

Fall in love with pixels

Magnification joins us

Bigger is OBVIOUSLY better

Pull back

into romantic distance

A medium shot

Feel the bonds loosen

 

Get closer again

Print out x-rays

Infrared exposes us in inky shadows

Husks filled with floating dinosaur DNA

A few have pristine diamonds inside

 

Only frame rare x-rays

Hang them in abode

Bravely heed them about once a year

 

 

 

James Mirarchi grew up in Queens, New York. In addition to his poetry collections, Venison and Dervish, he has written and directed short films, which have played at festivals. His poems have appeared in Crack the Spine Literary Magazine, Poydras Review, gobbet, Boyslut, Bluepepper, Orion headless, The Mind[less] Muse, Dead Snakes, egg, The Recusant, Subliminal Interiors Magazine, Bad Robot Poetry, and Clockwise Cat.

A Poem by Bill Jansen

Front Page

At the Bon Jour Cafe
a front page athlete
splashes into the Oregonian.
Plaster dust on my bagel
from a cupid shaped hole
in the ceiling.

The cafe is on 3rd Avenue.
A empty paper bag
floats across traffic like a single mom.

I ask the waitress for a new bagel.
Or a Lifeguard's whistle.

Then a bronze wet hand
rises out of page one
and steals the salt.

Bill Jansen lives in Forest Grove, Oregon.  Recent work as appeared or will soon appear in Gap Toothed Madness and Asinine Poetry.