Monday, May 28, 2018

"To-Do List" and "Giving Birth to a Dancing Star," two poems by D.C. Buschmann

To-Do List
by D.C. Buschmann


Entries hang 

like apples
with due insouciance
until becoming
the raison d'ĂȘtre
picked off
just before putrid.

Giving Birth to a Dancing Star
by D.C. Buschmann

After the view
000000on the
000000000000after the tempest
000000in the abyss
000000000000from the pounding rain
teaching us to love
000000for love’s
000000to let go
000000000000of the

"I tell you: One must have chaos in one, to give birth to a dancing star."
Thus Spoke Zarathustra

D.C. Buschmann is routinely ordered about by two miniature schnauzers, Cupcake and Coco, and is a freelance editor in Carmel, Indiana. She has been published in numerous anthologies in the U.S., the U.K., Australia, and India, including Rat’s Ass Review and Lamar University’s Wise Ass Anthology. In 2016, she was a finalist both in the Alex Albright Creative Nonfiction contest and in the Pride in Poetry contest by NavWorks Press.

Monday, May 21, 2018

"World" and "Careening," two poems by Lisa Barton

by Lisa Barton

I do not want to be
your reliable laid back
afterthought so
there is more
I have insides to my insides
and some ain’t pretty
I want
the same things
what you keep for
sacred dears you exalted
for no purpose
decorating your landscape with
pink flamingos bordered by
tiki torches
I am
life in a frame of bone and meat
barely contained, full to bursting
pushing you towards recognition
carving out MY landscape
crushing your fucking flamingos
and setting the shards on fire

by Lisa Barton

I’m riding the bronco on a most
runaway out-of-control carousel
playing calliope music slightly off
key pulsing nightclub dancer disco
bass thumps into my most exposed mind

I tilt-sway-snap the jerks
shake me out of brief soft focus
reveries of warm arms pulling
my shaky frame into slow motion
bliss I want to be worthy of
and call my own so I’ll seize the reins
of my hulking steed and break
out of this go-round sunset bound

From the poet: Lisa Barton is a work in progress living in Indianapolis. Her poetry is an expression of that as well as the nonsense and conflict within her brain. She's a sister, daughter, friend, artist, designer, problem solver, overthinker, enthusiastic cat parent, seeker, teacher and information sponge. She's been writing poetry off and on for 20 years, which makes her feel really old right now. 

Thursday, May 17, 2018

Leirvik Oysters, a poem by Chandy John

Editor's Note: May 17 is Norway Constitution Day

Leirvik Oysters
by Chandy John

Thick algae-green shell
Delicate pattern, unyielding mouth
Cracked open with force and skill
Yields slimy, salty, repellent joy
Nose, mouth, tongue
The western Norway coast
Remains in stomach memory

From Chandy John: “I'm a a pediatrician, researcher and author whose prose, poems and fiction have been published in Sojourners, Phantasmagoria, JAMA, The Pharos, Annals of Internal Medicine, Journal of General Internal Medicine and The Michigan Alumnus. I live and work in Indiana, Kenya and Uganda.”

Tuesday, May 15, 2018

Emily's Chamber, a poem by Jo Barbara Taylor

Emily's Chamber
by Jo Barbara Taylor
                          after lines by Sarah Edwards

Emily enters the evening
garden like a tide
that slips onto shore, awakens
sensual senses, reaches
beyond today,
erases yesterday, seeks evidence
for tomorrow.
Her way of
being in a world of interlopers,
and at low-tide, she leaves,
retreats from the garden shore
to sanctuary. In her room,
plain like a cotton bedsheet,
she writes, taut
words tumbling smooth
onto white linen paper, tucked
and folded in.

Jo Barbara Taylor lives in North Carolina, but is an Indiana farm girl at heart. Her poems and academic writing have appeared in journals, magazines, anthologies and online. How to Come and Go (Chatter House Press 2016) is her fourth book. She leads poetry-writing workshops through Duke Continuing Education, chairs the workshop committee for the North Carolina Poetry Society, and coordinates a poetry reading series for a Raleigh independent bookstore.

Monday, May 7, 2018

Repeat Offender, a poem by Lylanne Musselman

Repeat Offender
by Lylanne Musselman

Nothing prepares you for the broken record
of your mom’s mind on a circular spin;
with each repeated phrase you feel yourself
spinning out of control. You must remember
she cannot reason any more than one can reason
with a two-year-old. Sometimes when you tell her
she can’t drive anymore she argues, cries, and pleads
to give her just one more chance. You tell her you’re afraid
for her safety and the safety of others. She says you can
ride with her and if she does something bad, just tell her
to pull over and she will; and all at once you remember:
a younger, saner mom who was mad at you
as a young adult, a passenger in her car.
She floored it on the back roads, saying she didn’t care
if she killed us both. And, you realize how irrational
she has always been – when she is not in control.

Lylanne Musselman is an award-winning poet, playwright, and artist, living in Indiana. Her work has appeared in Pank, Flying Island, The Tipton Poetry Journal, Poetry Breakfast, The New Verse News, Ekphrastic Review, and Rat’s Ass Review, among others, and many anthologies, including Resurrection of a Sunflower, poems to honor Vincent van Gogh (Pski’s Porch, 2017). A Pushcart Nominee twice, Musselman is the author of four chapbooks including the recent Weathering Under the Cat (Finishing Line Press, 2017).