The gun goes off in about two weeks We can’t guess why? where? or who? It could be you There will be blood terror screams sirens weeping makeshift shrines, funerals the shooter will be alive or dead Media will report nonstopnonstop non s-t-o-p! for a while and then? we will go back to the beginning …
“There will be many poems written in the shape of a grenade” —John Haines They’re in a helicopter or a Hummer or a plane with an open bay for the firing and dropping of weapons and a soldier accidentally drops a grenade and it rolls across the floor and explodes taking both legs and an …
The Desert: 107 Degrees on Mother’s Day by Judy Ray Oh, but it’s a dry heat! The chorus repeats like the continuous murmur of mourning doves rustling to rest in palm trees. With a gasp we step out into the oven, praying for mercy. A dry heat, yes! You could flick a flint against the …
Frida Kahlo In a chronicle of pain the child’s leg dwindles with polio. A streetcar crushes nerves and bones. And Frida, born of revolution recreates her life again and again. She wears flowers and embroidered silks, jewelry of sky or thorns or severed hands. She braids her long hair. Diego looms larger than life, and …
[To hear Doctress Netuopia read her poem, click the above link.] Yoginis and Yogis time for a meditation on breath and the global carbon cycle. Get seated into easy pose—sukhasana. Sit down on your sitz bones as you straighten your spine while extending the crown your head up into the smog. Take a moment …