All posts tagged poem of the week

  • Paleontologist’s Palette

    by Joseph Szalinski

    Wing nights attract like tree stars; barstools and booths become bonafide Bedrocks; boasts of the best are shared like rumors and maps to Skull Island. Roars of napkin-muffled belches and a show-and-tell of aromas greet festive company ready to make flavorful discoveries buried in meat instead of layers of crumbly history. Saucy archaeologists whose only tested faith is in their own ability to devour dozens of drums and flats. Dig-Dugs of dry rubs, rattling off crazy culinary nomenclature as difficult as Latin terminology.


  • in april, how many

    by M. Christine Benner Dixon

    “how many tiny bees/ have gotten that far/ and starved by the journey/ eaten shadow pollen/           never to return/ through her bright horn”


  • A Love Letter to My Hometown

    by Alexandra Gipson

    “I grew up in Plum, a funny name for a funny town/ whose gaudy purple trash cans display the words/
    “One Great Big Small Boro”/ with pride, as if this town has something to be proud of.”


  • May Day

    by Mike Schneider

    Spend! Spend! Spend! Spend!
    says the lady in billowing purple
    & gold pajama pants & flip-flops,
    shuffling east on Carson at 15th …