Today’s choice
Previous poems
Erich von Hungen
Burning Wings
Dark
but tolerable
The air, itself,
no longer sweating.
And the yellow moths
like some strange throw-away
tissues used up by nature
circle the lamp hanging above.
Nearer and further they stitch,
around and back and past me.
I see one fall and burn so close
to what he wants, is most driven to.
I wonder, then, what I look like
singed so often myself
and how much my soul smells
like burning wings?
Erich von Hungen is a writer from San Francisco, California. His writing has appeared in The Write Launch, Colorado Quarterly, Green Ink Press, The Hyacinth Review, IceFloe Press, Fahmidan Journal, Broken Spine Press and others. He is the author of four poetry books. The most recent is “Bleeding Through: 72 Poems of Man in Nature”. Find him on X @poetryforce.
Helen Frances
I wasn’t in, so she left me a note.
Each word a tangle of broken ends, some oddly linked
to the next with a ghost trail of ink
from her rose-gold marbled fountain pen,
a rare indulgence she’d bought herself.
Suzanne Scarfone
truth be told
part of me has lived
in this box of disquiet
for years and years
let’s see
Julia Webb
Because a woman woke up
and her head had become a flower.
Freyr Thorvaldsson
A candle eats away at air
At the same rate that we do
Konstandinos (Dino) Mahoney
A teacher guides his pupils past headless marble torsos,
dusty cabinets of tiny Attic coins, pockmarked stylobates,
to a large clay pithos . . .
Maggie Brookes-Butt
For you, with your toddler bendiness,
the squat is a natural, easy position
while I hurt-strain, thinking of miners
crouched outside their front doors
Sally Michaelson
Heads under bonnets
mechanics catch a wiff
of a girl passing
Carmen Marcus
extract from The Keen Is ar scath a Chéile a mhaireann na daoine: It is in the shadow of each other we live. Watching with the dying. Travelling with the dead. Phyllida Anam-Áire; The Celtic Book of Dying, Findhorn Press, Vermont, 2022 Àite...
Nina Parmenter
When The Threat of Hell Failed
God created the lanyard,