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Contributor: d0ll

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Chasing the moon
With my hungry eyes
You never make me wait
Not even a while
Scent of the unknown
Yet so familiar
The moon will walk
With the stars until the dawn
A fairly loud smile
A soft voice like a pillow
Under my head

Every time I see you
We’d paint pictures
On the night sky
We’d wish to stay
That way every night
We’d laugh without a sound
Drowning in a smile
I won’t look away
I’ll breathe you in
And wish to never breathe out

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Student, DJane, alternative model, DIY enthusiast from Slovakia

An Evening’s Walk

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Contributor: J.K. Durick

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Even before
We got going
It started
To sprinkle
And after
A street
Or two,

Two left turns
And a stop
Or two
So the dog
Is satisfied,

It began to rain

Enough to
Turn us back
To retrace
Our step
To unwind
Our walk

Moving faster
At the end
Than earlier.

Our lives
Become outlines
Like this,

Partially filled in

Too hard
To measure,

We forget
Almost before
They’re over.

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J. K. Durick is a writing teacher at the Community College of Vermont and an online writing tutor. His recent poems have appeared in Camel Saloon, Black Mirror, Milo Review, Eye on life Magazine, and Leaves of Ink.


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Contributor: Byron Beynon

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The sound of doors
shutting inside
anonymous rooms
during the quiet
hours when there is still
light rusting
in a remote sky;
the atmosphere clears
like a table
after a meal,
the long distance of yesterday
creeps in
faded like a memory
caught in a yellow beam,
untouchable like a silent
photograph developed
in the mind,
retention breathing
inside a native ground
patient as discovery.

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Byron Beynon lives in Swansea, Wales. His most recent collection is The Echoing Coastline (Agenda Editions).


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Contributor: Joseph Lisowski

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Unnamed butterflies alight
on my garden walk,
preen, pose, then flutter away—
bizarre species spewed
from volcanoes, water spouts,
or dropped from eyes too tear laden
to sustain flight.

I hum a tune,
whisper a line of a poem
that I think will please.
I wait.
Then try again.
They are impervious
to the change in climate,

I wander off, alone
with my need to connect,
forgetting for a moment
the terror of beauty
about to be born.

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Most recent book publication: STASHU KAPINSKI DREAMS OF GLORY (Sweatshoppe Publications, 2013). Alive in Richmond, VA

Chicago Street Preacher

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Contributor: Michael Lee Johnson

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Street preacher
server of the Word,
pamphlet whore, hand out
delivery boy,
fanatic of sidewalk vocals,
banjo strummer, seeker of coins,
crack cocaine and salvation within notes.
Camper on 47th from Ashland
to California promoting his
penniless life, gospel forever
Kingdom here it comes.

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Michael Lee Johnson lived ten years in Canada during the Vietnam era: now known as the Illinois poet, from Itasca, IL. Today he is a poet, freelance writer, photographer who experiments with poetography (blending poetry with photography), and small business owner in Itasca, Illinois, who has been published in more than 750 small press magazines in 27 countries, he edits 9 poetry sites. Michael is the author of The Lost American: "From Exile to Freedom", several chapbooks of poetry, including "From Which Place the Morning Rises" and "Challenge of Night and Day", and "Chicago Poems". He also has over 71 poetry videos on YouTube.

The Forgetful Man

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Contributor: Teddy Kimathi

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O, what a forgetful man!

He forgot the wallet
in the car.

He forgot the car keys
in the restaurant.

He forgot to pay for a meal
in the restaurant.

He forgot the name
of the restaurant he went to.

He forgot where he parked
his car.

He forgot his driving license
at his house.

He forgot his cell phone
in the restaurant’s washroom.

He forgot that today is his third
marriage anniversary.

O, what a forgetful man he is!

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Poetry is one of Teddy's first loves. You can his poems in Leaves of Ink, Three Line Poetry, Tanka Journal, Literature Today, Shot Glass Journal and Inwood Indiana Press. His fiction works can be found in Beyond Science Fiction & Every Day Fiction.

I Risk

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Contributor: Nikhil Nath

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I risk

in a curfew
of beer

and for Berlin
I carry

a grudge
full of football

without trophies,
but Moscow

can swim, in
KGB lies no more,

and find strawberries
too Wimbledon

for its taste,
a curse of gymnastics,

perhaps to see heads roll

as marriage is
still the Royal thing

in old Britannica
sans fish and chips

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The First Lily

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Contributor: Bobbi Sinha-Morey

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Like lighting the stars in
heaven we move where
instinct moves us; our
spirits strong as a candle
flickering in the dusk.
I would like to be the air
that inhabits you, the scent
of an unspoken prayer
ripe in its joy. Hope is as
easy as breathing in,
and we hold it as a flame
in two cupped hands.
In the kiln of my dreams
my path is chosen by my
heartbeat and, when you
touched me, we remarked
on the light. The first lily
bloomed, and graced by
the welkin, it glowed.

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I am a poet living in the peaceful city of Brookings, Oregon. My poetry can be seen in places such as Orbis, Plainsongs, Open Window Review, Pirene's Fountain, and others. My books of poetry are available at and

Cogito Ergo Sum

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Contributor: Diego Sieiro

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I can’t be left alone with my thinking
For it bullies me
Bringing up my secrets and forcing tears.

I can’t go alone anywhere,
For I may run into any of my ideas
They all are crazy and want to tickle me.

It’s not that I am out of my mind
She herself kicked me out
for not washing the dishes.

I as usual was late
Lost again my train of thought
and had to walk galore.

I talk to my self,
But my self is tired
Of the same old questions

I thought I had lost IT,
IT had left holding a girl’s hand
And alone IT returned.

My memory is not what it was
It is what it is
And never was what I wanted

Ergo cogito
Ergo sum

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Diego has written comics, short stories and fragments of books in Mexico, Spain, the U.S. of A. and Ireland.
Poems he writes whenever Calliope tugs at his ears.

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