Today’s choice
Previous poems
Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal
Art Exhibit
I hear the roar of
the ocean. I hear
a series of shrieks
and long screams.
An eventual lull
comes. My ears
are an abstraction.
I don’t know what
to tell you. Last
night a spider made
its way inside my
ear. It crawled out
with fragments of
wax. I hear the
possibilities of the
thought of a spider,
of a stranger, but
I am unsure of it.
My ear is a triangle.
I hear coughing sounds.
I hear myself laugh,
the grinding of teeth,
the tracing of circles.
My ear is a square.
These are my dreams.
I’m an art exhibit
with wounds I unstitch.
Soon my time will come.
Quick, turn off the lights.
Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal was born in Mexico, lives in California, and works in the mental health field in Los Angeles. His poems have appeared in Blue Collar Review, Fixator Press, Ink, Sweat, and Tears, Lothlorien Poetry Review, and Oddball Magazine. His latest poetry book, Make the Water Laugh, was published by Rogue Wolf Press.
Ruth Lexton
It is late at night and the kettle is boiling,
a quire of steam fanning out in the white kitchen
you are holding me as if I were your girl again
Stewart Carswell
It’s the house at the end.
White paint flakes off the front gate,
wood rots beneath.
Chris Kinsey
Hey cat, you’re doing really well,
three fields stalked and only one to go.
Holly Magill
. . .you’re swallowed whole
into this cocoon: pine-scent, antibac and the dry
whoosh of his heater – lean your careworn bones into
synthetic leather snug, . . .
Dave Simmons
My sky is a hole from which the bucket drops.
Like all heretics, I am put to work processing stones.
Paul Fenn
To impress you, I became
a seven-year-old son of Sparta.
A little hard man, crayon
marching down the page.
Ruth Aylett
God had been playing computer games
for a chunk of eternity when he became aware
he’d left creation in the oven for a long time
Chris Campbell
The View From This Hospital Window
I admire an empty bench for hours –
then a glum couple sit to share strawberries.
Patrick Deeley
He sees a stainless-steel spoon
burned off at the base,
a bunch of wild flowers dropped,