The Living Need a Poem

By Saul Landau The Cold War is over
why aren't we having fun
I have destroyed my internal Timex

Because She Thinks She Is Going To Hell

By Theresa Davis honey
you are not being judged
because your bones decided

By Amaranth Borsuk Few things the hand wished language could
do, given up on dialect's downward spiral:
words so readily betray things they're meant

By Jamaal May Hold a pomegranate in your palm,
imagine ways to split it, think of the breaking
skin as shrapnel. Remember granada

By Adam Wiedewitsch in blue earth, among willows, aisles
of box-elder, elms, in the silence between
on the sand-bar in front

By Brian Fanelli Every Sunday, I came dressed in punk rocker black,
checkered pants, steel-toed Docs.
No tie dye on me when I joined

By Jonathan B. Tucker pardon our appearance
as we grow to better serve you
says the sign on the fence

By Zein El-Amine Sit in their circle.
Don't let your eyes linger
on any object in the room.

By Purvi Shah The mehndi is leaving my hands,
brown swirls dissolving into brown skin.
Somewhere you are traveling

By Kevin Simmonds needs
at least one subject
and one verb