poems by Justin Hyde

Poems by Aimee Delong

Cat, Poem, & Notes (poetry & fiction)
by Ralph-Micheal Chiaia

Artwork by Bruce New

Charlie Parker's Garden (poetry) by Puma Perl

Red Mama (artwork/poetry) by Moctezuma Johnson

The Mob (poetry) by Doug Draime

Willie Lepers (music video) by Norman Ball

1 out of 6 by by Rob Plath

The Recipe by Emme Hor

Sometimes Suicidal by Aimee DeLong

Last Night at Southport by Justin Hyde

microwave popcorn haiku by Pete Lee

 

"Watching the hot pigeons suffer and fuck"

Bukowski wrote those
words of wisdom
highlighting the human condition,
highlighting my condition,
hot pigeons do suffer and fuck
for the sake of their species
all of us
all of them
all of creation
we suffer and fuck for the sake
of perpetuating our species,
field mice dart from bush to bush
trying to avoid the hawk's eye,
rabbits scurry to their burrows
coyotes in hot pursuit
some make it, some don't),
baby snakes devour baby mice,
baby birds fall from their nests,
deer thrash about in a
mountain lion's hot grasp,
and another fish goes down
the croc's throat
while I drink my beer,
sad, lonely, depressed,
wishing C. were here,
hell, wishing anyone were here,
thinking about how I suffer,
as another baby bird slips
and is gone,
and the hot pigeons fuck some more.

Sobriety is Overrated

Any poem written sober,

I don't want to read,
any poem written on a computer,
I don't want to read.

If you want to write about life
real life
human life,
then use pen or pencil,
            chalk, crayon,
            a manual typer,
or scratch it out in
            blood,
            shit,
            piss,
            tears,
and write as if death will catch you
were you to slow down,
do that,
and the rest of us
will understand,
just don't forget the wine.

An Extra Hour of Death

I awoke at 6 a.m.,
refreshed but lazy,
the room cold,
bed warm,
so I dozed
an hour
and awoke again
at 7,
dazed now
from too much sleep,
and sad,
knowing I'd just added
an hour
to the eternity
I'll be dead.

Biography

Paul Hellweg wishes he could write as well as Bukowski, but Hellweg doesn't drink as much, stay up as late, or bed as many women. He has a long way to go.

Book Reviews:

Dancing on Thin Ice by George Anderson (review by Ralph-Michael Chiaia)

92 Rapple by Lyn Lifshin
(review by Helen Peterson)

10 Poems & Ampersands
by Ralph-Michael Chiaia
(review by David McLean)