Two Poems by Wayne F. Burke

spita sweat-hog in the bedbeside me, one of her titsa flattened loaf of bread, theother like a torpedo–I wonder when the last timeshe brushed her teeth;after she spitsinto her handI cannot go through with it:I hang-out at the edge of thebeduntilshe starts to snore. FacialShe took it like a sword-swallowerin and out, thelength of it,Continue reading “Two Poems by Wayne F. Burke”

Frame Chain [Poem] by Peter Mladinic

Schaeffer tells Amanda: Elsie Pym, in her early fifties,her hair coiled, a braided bun on top,took pins from her hair.The coil came undone, her hair fellto the small of her back. When I’d see her mornings in Embersshe’d take my order, her dark-rimmedglasses fastened to a silver chain.The glasses on a chain, the coiled hair,and,Continue reading “Frame Chain [Poem] by Peter Mladinic”

The Rose of Sharon [Poem] by Larry Oakner

The Rose of Sharon isn’t really a rose, but it’s still a flower as real as the name you whispered in my ear in a voice rubbed smooth by a thousand hours of midnight and smoke. The space between real and imagined is a close as your breath on my cheek. What is real are your eyes that burn asContinue reading “The Rose of Sharon [Poem] by Larry Oakner”

itch [Poem] by Ben Newell

Hot blonde in a sundress[big tits, no bra]approaches the reference desk.  “Can I have some of that hand sanitizer?”she asks.  “Of course,” I say.“That’s what it’s for . . .” She pumpsa liberal amount into her handthen applies it to her ankle— “Mosquito bite,” she says.  “This stuff takes careof the itch . . .” SomeContinue reading “itch [Poem] by Ben Newell”

Marianna [Poem] by Noel Negele

We hooked up on a drunken nightsomewhere in Bergen Op Zoom, Hollandwhere I told them all outside a clubthey don’t know how to livethis isn’t how you party,you drink soft drinks first, in a soft and nonchalant environmentwhere you talk and joke and nag each otherwhile it hopefully plays Springsteen or something sexy and oldContinue reading “Marianna [Poem] by Noel Negele”

Coming [Poem] by David Sprehe

Painting youWith strings of good feelingStreaming over your lipsLips stretched in that so-quiet smile Come on your eyelids with thick lashes Some even lands in your hairDripping now down your cheekTongue ventures for a tasteThose are my babiesWiggling along your skinEyes openThose doe green eyes warbling spaceAnd your giggleI love youI kiss youLove is too small aContinue reading “Coming [Poem] by David Sprehe”