By William Doreski 

Scolding the world in public

eases the dark congealing

in your shapely, old-fashioned skull.

The coffee shop hums. Urns deplete

as snow whirls in the doorway.

Baked goods hunker on display.

By Craig R. Kirchner 

We are being told daily of our incredible freedom

here in the Sunshine state,

where the sun is experiencing the freedom to be hotter

than it has ever been in recorded times.

We are free, as James Madison obviously envisioned,

to openly carry our beloved firearms,

in case we experience a need to defend ourselves during a road rage,

or in case our children are being groomed by lesser than ourselves.

We can carry our assault rifles in the trunk,

in case a particularly bad case of frustration crawls upon us

and we are near the elementary school that scorned us,

as the second amendment suggests. 

By Cheryl Caesar

(This poem was originally published in Across the Margin)

On the first day our Facebook pages went black.

We drove to work through a film of tears

and hugged each other in the hallways, unashamed,

and in the women’s room. We talked about renewing passports,

and families in Canada. We avoided referring

to the beginning of The Handmaid’s Tale. We went

on to meet our classes, or conference with students

who complained, “I didn’t know

this assignment would be so evidence-based.”

We kept our blurry eyes front, and flowed

through the day on a current of work and love.

By Bud Sturguess

This morning, I woke to find my manor was burning.

I’d heard rumors about the neighbors being on fire,

or some such story,

but I’d long ago painted my windows black.

When I was stirred awake by

a constant crinkling and popping,

when I saw my Beatlemania collection melting

in psychedelic apocalyptic colors,

I decided it was finally true.

By Neil Vincent Scott - November 10, 2024 

turn the news off

turn the music up

let us once again

     tend to the garden of goodness and light

rejecting

     rebuilding

         renewing

as darkness descends

on the trampled flowers of promise

By Russell E. Willis

Tempted to despair, 

a better angel

sighs into our souls

some gentle signs of

peace and joy and some

other’s love for us