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On Being Alive
by Louie Crew

Apple blossoms in October.

A shrill whistle in the distance,
but not from the dry lips
of the little boy
who crunches down the alley
with his shattered umbrella
against the sun.

Smells of dead tuna float violin-like
into apple blossom.

For a second I believe
that the leaves
violently swishing
just outside my door
are for me. But I am for them.

I have been apprehended.

Perhaps what the exhibitionist
feels, wanting to be caught.

Revelations of nakedness
in the gray off-light
of a blind-drawn rooms
on cold autumn sunny afternoons.

I have been apprehended.

To see an old shoe with wonder
at its creases.

To watch the water
at the drain, as Ulysses watched,
in the ninth year voyaging home.

To see up as down, and still
not lose your balance.

To learn your attitude
only from a mirror
(for you are in the face
only what others see):

Such is wonder,
the same that on Patmos
before John the Divine
plopped a horse-riding whore,
and she'll be coming round the mountain
as Shostakovitch a flute trill does.

Human skin is lovely, Gulliver,
even when it peels or when you feel
no hormone desire to touch, only wonder
at so strange a metamorphosis of dust.

I have been apprehended.

Regret Of The Drunken Text...
by Brian Hardie

Agnostic fears believe faith is a

Love not able to be torn from. The innocent

Houses lined in the park deceive the

Scripts written by a

Homeless sensation. From coast to coast,

To the avenues of sorrow, mistaken foods are sold on

Circumstance, tattooing the sensitive

Voices on the opposing spectrum. Abrasive pigtails send

The ill fated intentions of souls suffering

The harm to hurt. Informal attires of the poets sadness

Is to forever confide in the hope of another. She

Foreshadows the loss through the sensation of

Desolate theories. Dripping from the pipes of my

Stomach, burns are lathered with oils of hostile

Scents. Thus Pain is cured with the flexible arm of

A single-handed solitary aid. Consider the oceans filled

With perished liquors stimulating the fluids of imagery.

Indecisive Florida shores observe the indulgence. Glossy

Eyes do not intrude on chances,

Only the original daring plead.

Vampire's Dream
by Robin Lanyon

Streams of blood gather into pools,
Drops like honey sweet and red
Flow freely from those trusting fools
Who desire to join me in my bed.

Bodies betrayed consumed by lust,
Blinded by passion yet unknown,
Follow me with absolute trust
To a dungeon built of sand and stone..

Excitement builds as shackles lock
And fear reaches the hearts of men
I take this time to gently mock
How in their pain I find my Zen.

Hunger mounts an attack on me
As I am helpless in this fight,
Wishing for it not to flee
From me this very night.

Fangs glisten in the light of the moon,
Peaking in from the lonely window hole.
A cry for help echoes in the wind
Pleading not to take his mortal soul.

Blood rushes through swollen veins.
Hearts beat wildly with anticipation
Crimson blood on white teeth stains
Revealing an eternal divination.

Eyes wide open as evening wakes
Wishing sleep would again return.
Beautiful dreams an eternity takes
To keep me from wanting to burn.

Downturn Retards Gears of Capitalism By Joe Speer

Rex received his pink slip from Chrysler

as more auto workers continue

assembling fossil-fueled products

extracting energy

from dead life.

In the unemployment line

he rejected a job offer

to blast mountain tops

in search of coal.

Neither did he consider

a bonus and benefits

to carry a gun for Blackwater

in the incessant war.

Wiith his digs emptied out

except for a 42' flat screen

a DVD player

and a recycled bag of movies

he avoided abjection.

The electricity scheduled for cut off

by midnight, he settled in

to review segments of favorite films:

"The Women" 1939

black and white

with a special fashion show

where women in bathing suits

look better in color

the skin tones glisten.

"Run Silent, Run Deep" 1958

torpedo warfare

fire one dive dive.

"Viridiana" 1961

a nun out of the convent

and a beggar's banquet.

"Labyrinth" 1986

spandex and goblins

where nothing is what it seems.

When the power outage ended his festival

he donated his film collectiion

to the public library

and drove his VW camper

to the Salton Sea

looking for a space

rent free

Positively Autumn

Summer was but an opening act
for this Autumn season peaking.
Curtain risen, it’s here to behold -
turn off that TV, go seeking!

Outside you’ll find nature’s spectacle,
vivid backdrops mysterious;
magenta, scarlet, pumpkin and gold -
artists palettes delirious.

A warm breeze no longer sweltering
tickles cheeks and ruffles your hair
like a long-lost lover just returned
brings welcomed past pleasures to share.

Faint cheers from a distant football field
stir tastes of hot dogs and cocoa.
Delighted shouts from neighborhood kids
echo jumps in raked leaves, loco.

Smoke drifting from impatient chimneys
mingled with spiced apples baking
carries the scents of dewy-eyed times;
tingles of innocence aching.

Snuggles at sunset on worn porch swings
are hugs brought by cooling twilights.
Cricket choirs lament Summer’s passing
like symphonied, soft lullabies.

Appreciate, savor these moments;
this gift of Autumn times pleasant.
Rustling leaves just whispered your name -
Go outside, open your present!

 Tomi Fratto September 2008

A Poem by Barry G. Gale

John Wilkes Booth

Force holier than hidden craft,

Lion nobler than the fox,

Actions tacit and oft delayed,

Caesar in a box;

Bloody, sacred and misinformed,

Anger eviscerated by doubt,

God-like purpose, three-ring circus,

Thespians on the out.

Force holier than hidden craft,

Lion nobler than the fox,

Plans sweetened with smelling salts,

Souls chiseled with rocks;

Confusion ignited, compassion excited,

Assignations lit by maddening moons,

Effervescent lights on angels’ wings

Mix elocution with Roman ruins.

Force holier than hidden craft,

Lion nobler than the fox,

Rancid smells, brackish hells,

Conspirators’ benighted clocks;

Chasing down the river’s bend,

Rising with apoplectic guile,

Hallelujah! cries the soldier’s whore,

Framed by Brutus’s feckless smile.

JOY IN PASSING RIVERS

By J.D. Littlewolf

To all passing rivers

a stone must fall.

To go away; not looking back

is very difficult to do.

You have been my friend

and my lover.

In my loneliest moments

you were there.

To leave you now

is very hard for me.

Joy, not sadness

is knowing you.

But, as the stone falls

I must go – for now.

Someday to return to you

my friend; my love.

A Whisker in a Million By Dean Zulueta age 12

When you were rescued I sat by your side

Brushing your silky black and white hide

I LOOVVEDD you so much I gave in

When home you were scared,

Staying behind the laundry bin

A year went by

With you I would never sigh

Then you got out and roamed all night

My heart dropped and I was in a state of fright

At the door I heard something “Meeeooow”

I knew that was my Sylvester's “meeeooow,meeeooow”

Another year and I knew

That you had the alley cat blood in you

Some days were scary

Others were barley

I went too far

The alley cat in you got hit by a giant car

I went to school you went to the vet

Came to my mom “Where is he Where is he”

His life had ended causing an overcast of sadness

Two months later he was at the door, black as coal

Mister Max , a black cat , I knew had Sylvester's soul.

By Peter Nez

A poem (of fantasmical hideous proportions)

The blazing hillsides of lovers laments

The undeniable chastity of sweet virgins lips

Has this recitation reached its pinnacle upon high?

Was there ever a document devoid of clamoring sighs?

I wouldn¢t doubt the devotion of a drunkard¢s plea

When legs have failed he will stand on his knees

Screeching the fondest choir amidst a stony refuse

Supplanting smiles on the tiniest scarred from calamitous abuse

Fleeing southward the court jests at his delights

Underneath shimmering wives his tales reach masterful heights

Against all odds the planter sows his seeds

Against all hopes the lover grants the heart bleeds

What was it the owl spoke to the tiny tree?

Ah! Grow but don¢t ask why, or how, or for what purpose.

For there are more answers then there are solutions...

A promise

Silently screaming,

The rain like bullets,

Nothing to stop me now,

Nothing to keep these nightmares away.

An image of death, pain, and screams,

Flashes when I close my eyes,

Terror in every thought,

Shots raining down like fire.

Children crying as their mothers hold them close,

Brothers of war falling before me,

Faces filled with pain as others try to drag them to safety,

But only end up falling the same way.

Wishing to have been able to talk to loved ones once more,

Knowing they would cry when they heard the news,

That flag of red, white, and blue draping down,

As the finale draws to its bloody end.

A wife, Husband, child, sibling, parent,

All shot down in the heat of the battle,

The tears I watched fall as they gathered around you,

Because another soldier would not come home.

A promise to come back to be wed,

A promise never to be fulfilled,

A promise to be best friends till the end,

A promise that can no longer ever be broken.

By: Morgan Yoas

GOD'S MESSENGER By Gerald Bosacker
When the darkness of passing night
turned golden with the fresh new dawn,
I watched a single robin light
softly on my dew soaked lawn.

His voice trilled out across the way,
sweet music to my listening ear.
Bright promise of a perfect day
resounding in his song of cheer.

I feared this day when I arose,
surrender loomed as my intent.
Because of prayer to end my woes,
I thought that robin, Heaven sent?

Did my God send that bird to bring
his comfort with transcendent word?
When that Robin dropped there to sing,

Was it God's answer that I heard?

Parked In A Run-Down Coupe At The Lackluster Inn ( By Brian Hardie)

Strong, astounded,
Shaking with acute shrill,
A dash through the square of my wits and thoughts.
Think twice of sheltered matter, for
Up in arms I am to the one that deems lonely numbers.
Cranium overcast seized my hands.
In all places a streaming beam of harmful sight.
The clouds touch down over the dim, poached assets;
I branded her loathing and odium.
Enlightened with lies, informing of collapse,
Reacting with intense might, amid melodic meek force,
Leeches turn up for nourishment needs.
When the heat lifts, a breeze will varnish my wounds,
Guard my sear.
I gaze at calloused flames dressed in white, though
Cartoon topics leave trails of gold.
Instinct reached in us from outside,
Bombs dove with a sweet scent fate,
From the horizon onto the shores of chance,
While the tide thoughtfully smiled,
Filtering sound to beat a thumping heart.

A Whimsey Tale

By: Michael J Davanzo

Bequeath me out on crimson troves

And let me walk upon chocolate waves

Blue ice drips in depths of winter

And echoes die in the black of caves

Let the sky rain color

And let the wind drip truth

Sleep soundly on a hidden cloud

Live forever in the fountain of youth

Watch the stars plummet into a flowers blossom

Allow me to step into a mirror

Embrace the moons radiant glow

Melt a golden chandelier

Watch a peacock fly on its tail

Fall up with the snow

Kiss the funnels of the sun

And catch a bow and arrow

Marvel at a unicorn

And taste the livid light

Swim in an ocean of glitter

And help a phoenix ignite

Soil the earth with vines of hope

Cuddle with pure fire

Ride the wind of integrity

And walk the waters sapphire

Split the sky with day and night

Dance with a butterfly

Befriend a dragon and a wolf

Meet a cat that can never die

Climb on the roots of a tree

Let a blue whale swallow you

Swim with a mermaid and rule with a God

And traverse in the pouch of a kangaroo

Watch a mountain burn in blaze

Cause a city to fall into glass

Lose a village to frozen chrome

And allow a kingdom to impasse

Fight the endless universe

Hold a gryphons feather

Taste a tear of silk and bronze

And live in the land of nether

Travel the world in only a bubble

Hug your own reflection

Hold your hearts beating pulse

And feel loves true advection

PRAYER FOR A FRIEND
By Chris Nolan

Among the ivy and the roses

Where tears of loss are shed

By lovers now forgotten,

By the living for the dead.

The ghosts of sadness linger

In a mist of blinding haze,

In search of one another,

Through the fog of yesterdays.

May the angel of good fortune

Give you guidance from above.

May your days be filled with magic,

And your nights with perfect love.

May you find your kindred spirit;

May his heart be pure and true.

May your soul be resurrected,

And your life begin anew.

Desert Storm
by Miguel Dean Rizo

Heavy clouds followed the Sun
The blistered Earth had told the Sky
I have no more tears--cry for me
And he did

Perfumed Earth bathed by the Moon
Her charming face made lovelier by
The smell of the desert after the rain
Petrichor

Dark clouds broke before the Sun
The Moon collected their wispy strands
When all their tears had washed the Earth
And soothed her.

The Box
By Cynthia Jones

There is a box in my lap, heavy and gray,

cold as any jail cell.

It bites into the flesh on my legs,

but I savor it.

There is a box in my lap, all my rules lie there,

as constricting as any tightly laced corset.

There is a box in my lap, holding all of my order,

the 'way it should be's,' my lists, responsibilities-given

or self-imposed.

I itch to set it on the floor, this box in my lap,

open the lid, throw the contents to the wind.

And SCREAM!!!

There is a box in my lap.........

by trevercrow of Fernley

we all flake the same color skin
be you black, white, or reptilian
the snake molts & the lava's molten

the star gazes &
the human passes thru phases
with our pasts drawing mazes

serious to smart to funny to peculiar
most puzzle pieces are shaped similar

I live in the place of shark gods in desert lands
where hands are mastered by invisible bands

a black man with an albino chromosone
a white man with civil rights megaphone

catch the hurst
let he who is without cast the first

flashes of images
lashes of magic twigs

i freed my shadow & waved good-bye to me reflection
embraced my past life as a horse-less Indian
i didn't think i'd b able to write again
but a voice prompted me by sayin'
"come on boy--don't stop believin
cuzz dreamin' is what seperates you from the heathen"

Spring Happens!
by Tomi Fratto of Reno, NV

Mother Earth’s magic wand taps - -
lifeless grass transforms to green,
bouquets pop from barren trees,
tulips burst from bulbs unseen.

Thrillful robin choirs chirp in
to welcome Spring’s fresh new face.
Shouts of kids fill neighborhoods
in a longed-for twilight race.

Nature, critters and youngsters
celebrate days reviving.
Adults, alas, stay frozen,
exhausted by surviving.

What if this year is different,
we applaud our Spring’s unveil?
What if we see proof outside -
through darkness light prevails?

While bulbs push stems to sunlight,
as petals dance in the wind,
your spirit can awaken
if you make the choice my friend.

Hours are quickly ticking,
will you join, what will you choose?
Rejoice or not, Spring Happens!
Mother Earth believes, do you?

SLEEP MY PRINCESS
by Chris Nolan

Sleep my princess, and take your rest.
Eat not the bread of pain and sorrow,
A little dream, a little slumber,
A little adjournment until tomorrow.

Close your eyes in soft repose.
From the sands of time, you are set free.
Cherubim fly above your bed,
And grace thy lovely symmetry.

Journey with me and take my hand
While in peaceful dreams you lie.
Walk with me along the sand.
Touch the stars and kiss the sky.

I’ll sing to you with a steel guitar,
And by your side I shall stay,
As flights of angels wing your dreams
To far off lands ‘til light of day.

Schism
by Elisabeth Vodola

I would not have left that sphere,

Where all that mattered was near,

And only that which was near mattered;

I would not have left that sphere,

Outside which lay only fear,

Inside, what had to serve for dear—

I would not have left that sphere,

Had it not shattered.

Outside My Windowsill
by Kim Norton (UNR student)

Outside my windowsill I look
And I see
A husband driving the opposite direction of home
A boy with a handgun at his temple
A girl being robbed of her sanctity
A man grabbing for his pills
Just so he can get by

Outside my windowsill I look
And I see
A woman bending down to pick up a daisy
A newborn baby cooing at his mother
A couple falling in love
A man with the largest grin
Because he has the cancer beat

Outside my windowsill I look
And I see
Every day the same joys and heartaches
Beauty in its elegance and frailty
Love in its promises and shortcomings
Life in its splendors and woes
In its splendors that lead to woes

Outside my windowsill I look
And oh, what a bleak world I see

Archive Poems

Desert Storm by Miguel Dean Rizo

Desert Storm
by Miguel Dean Rizo