My Catalog of Obsolete Lonely Sounds

First, the old-fashioned dial tone,
zenith of nothingness.
Who invented that?

The almost-silent radio
after Country Carl’s
   sign-off prayer

Jazz singer fading to needle hiss
as the victrola winds down
In an empty room

I will leave off the train whistle,
though it inspired
many a fine old song

At the tone, the time will be
three a.m.
exactly.

Trish Saunders writes poetry and short fiction from Seattle. Her work’s been published in many
places, including The Rye Whiskey Review, The American Journal of Poetry, Eunoia Poetry
Review, the late lamented Fat Girls Review, and other places. She appreciates them all.

Depleted Empathy… And Snap Decisions

I function much better
without the Burden
of Explaining
every slick Manoeuvre
over-shoulder
to the… slipstream.
Tight as 12 whiskies,
yet, as Clear as Pain
… there’s
purposeful ambiguity
in the cards on Show,
the one’s chest-close
are Covert, Loaded,
and as Sharp
as Diamond Needles.
It’s Dot-To-Dot time,
in reverse…
unpicking the stitching
of previous conversations
… pushes the Future
further… away…
until ‘Rut-Stuck’
within a recycling Hour.
I’ll wager your Gamble
comes back with Teeth.

Paul Tristram is a widely published Welsh writer who deals in the Lowlife, Outsider, and Outlaw genres.  He wrote his first poem as a teenager following his release from the (Infamous) Borstal ‘HMP Portland’, and he has been creating Literary Terrorism ever since. His novel ‘Crazy Like Emotion’ is out by Close To The Bone Publishing.

On the Radio

they give away tickets
to 3 dog night
& the little river band

at 47
you think
to yourself
they gave away
the same tickets
when you were
in high school

you thought
they’d be dead by now
or at least silent

the car window
half rolled down

birds singing

the only music
that never
gets old.

John Dorsey is the former Poet Laureate of Belle, MO. He is the author of several collections of
poetry, including Which Way to the River: Selected Poems: 2016-2020 (OAC Books, 2020),
Sundown at the Redneck Carnival, (Spartan Press, 2022, and Pocatello Wildflower, (Crisis
Chronicles Press, 2023). He may be reached at archerevans@yahoo.com.

The Pacific Ocean

is of Scandinavian
origin, & is about
to undertake a
tour of several
cities south of the
Mason-Dixon line
with a show in
which it enfolds
local polypeptides &
assigns musical notes
to mathematical
algorithms. Tickets
go on sale at the
beginning of March.

Mark Young was born in Aotearoa / New Zealand but now lives in a small town in North
Queensland in Australia. He has been publishing poetry for almost sixty-five years, & is the
author of more than sixty books, primarily text poetry but also including speculative fiction,
vispo, memoir, & art history. His most recent books are a free downloadable chapbook of
visuals & poems, Mercator Projected, published by Half Day Moon Press in August 2023 &
Ley Lines II, recently published by Sandy Press & available through Amazon. Several more
books are scheduled for publication this year.

It Naturally Follows

Southbound on I-35, and an electronic
billboard off the right shoulder promises

twenty-five grand in reward money
for helping catch one of the city’s
                               MOST WANTED –

but then it shifts, just as I pull alongside,
to a yee-haw promo, shouting neat-beard
               face and all, for something called
                               OUTLAW DAYS

              which of course makes me wonder
                            Have you tried looking there?

Steve Brisendine lives and works in Mission, Kansas. His most recent collection is To Dance with Cassiopeia and Die (Alien Buddha Press, 2022), a “collaboration” with his former pen name of Stephen Clay Dearborn. His work has appeared in Modern Haiku, Flint Hills Review, Connecticut River Review and other journals and anthologies.

Factory Direct

She pulls at the bed covers
with a limitless anger.
I pull back, tuck the cover under
my shoulder and knee.
Make a sort of cocoon.
The big bad world waiting outside.
Full of piss and shit and vomit
and vinegar.
My place at the machine coming
factory direct.
Some minimum wage shitkicker
that has you by the balls.
Knowing you need the job more than
the machine needs you.
She tugs at the corners again,
lets out an irritated moan.
The sleepless red numbers of the
alarm clock burned right through my
throbbing head.

Ryan Quinn Flanagan is a Canadian-born author residing in Elliot Lake, Ontario, Canada with his wife and many mounds of snow.  His work can be found both in print and online in such places as: Evergreen Review, The New York Quarterly, Fixator Press, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Red Fez, and The Oklahoma Review.

Gone

Dreams past midnight
grieve dead friendships
I buried in
unmarked untended
unvisited graves
reclaimed by time
and nature
carpeted by
crisp dry grass
tamped down flat
by a pacing mind
that worries
if what was done
was done proper.
I can never
return to retrieve
or revive
the bodies there
sickness turned them
and putting them down
was the only option.

Jonathan S Baker lives and works in Evansville, Indiana just north of the river’s frown.  Their poems have appeared in various print and online publications and they are the author of several collections of poetry including Long Nights in Stoplight City (Between Shadows Press, 2023) and Thump! Thump!(Laughing Romin Press, 2023). 

cigarettes sweat and guilt

were all that
remained of
their lives together
lying side by
side in hell
on the unmade
bed, soiled sheets
bunched beneath
their feet like
dead skin
shading their
lidless eyes
made lifeless
by the flickering
TV images
they can never
turn off

Alan Catlin has been publishing in the small presses, littles and university magazines since the 70’s which, basically, just makes him old.  His next book is How Will the Heart Endure from Kelsay Books about the life and times of Diane Arbus.

Fury

Fury, red-blind crashing rage
Swirling in a private maelstrom
A blur, a torn page

Two steps up and one over
From a good old fashion Mad
Such an animated sad

Too much force to hold, or
Almost too much, almost

Too much is nuts. Bonkers. Brain-roast.
Crisped edges on the cerebral toast

Fury blows off steam
Before crazy blows the boiler.

Michael Theroux writes from his cubby-hole home office in Northern California. At 73, he is shifting from decades of developing and publishing science-based socio-political works toward publication of poetry, pseudo-fact and fiction. Much more satisfying…

Clearing Your Throat

Birds chirping over you
as you awake…

Opening your eyes
with pain inside your forehead.

Looking up into the underbelly
of trees with long branches
and bunches of dark leaves.

A patch of blue overhang
sky still watching over you.

For some reason you wiggle your toes,
realizing they stole your shoes and socks.

The birds have stopped chirping.
You glance around not seeing
a single bird…  
Only a peculiar silence
turning you to your side.

You spit blood.
Grinning
you’re still alive…

You cough again.
Clearing your throat
from a night you’ll never remember,

but knowing revenge
is neverending.

Stephen Jarrell Williams loves to take long walks, knowing someday he’ll have wings to fly. He can be found on X Twitter @papapoet.