On White Wings I Fly (For Misha Collins) (Parody of Bon Jovi’s “Wanted Dead or Alive”) by, Melissa R. Mendelson It’s always the same, only the monsters will change Everyday seems like the heroes are fading away Another catastrophe, where Hope is losing hold I’d fly all night just to be by their side Chorus: I’m […]
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More “Sold,” she said, as I stared in awe and wonder. But I had questions, important questions! Yet, I was silent in the face of her edict, her bright red and white sign. It was gone. So easily gone. So quickly gone. But how? Who decides what’s for sale? Who names the price? This place, this spot […]
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MEET THE MADNESS A Providence twilight, late November, every man and woman dressed in gray, sliding in and out of panels or emerging from dark recesses, all faces plain, hair drab, eyes shut, tongues muted, and there, high up in the skyscrapers, mouths in windows pause mid-shriek, as, down by the riverside, water rats crack on scattered bones […]
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Photography – Kayaker (By Melissa R. Mendelson)
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At Midnight in New York It’s midnight in New York and in this tall building Herb and Molly are in bed making love. Molly is a virgin and it hurts. Olga’s upstairs in bed with cancer terminal and it hurts. Melvin’s downstairs in bed snoring. Nothing hurts because he doesn’t know yet he has multiple sclerosis. In the hallway a thief goes floor […]
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The Calendar The sun coughed, scattered itself for a split second into myriad droplets – so divided, poured itself into the central chasm, flattening it to glory, clinching the final resilience of the chasm’s rocks – that reject sediment, so newly refined. Its roughage thickened the barriers against itself. In the beginning of time was its end, finally clinched to […]
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City’s so dark along the edge and cutthroat down the middle. There’s a police presence. They’re looking for identity cards. But I’m an artist. Can I show them my vermilion instead? It’s raining a tarnished silver. Sirens make a show of keeping people safe. A drunk’s being kicked and beaten by cops. All I can do is watch […]
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Before the Horoscope Nine planets juggle me on cusps And boil flood-chemistry to speed me. Will blows from Geminian ash, Sinks through quicksilver. Out-sensed, earth and fire are lit; Or fears invert that gaunt imminence Thrust all into the gulf. Beyond sear fuller flames – Tempered, reserved, Approved as solid, then abhorred As dark absorption in one […]
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PENULTIMATE for David Ferry (July, 21, 2015) At 91, David tells me that he is nearly finished with his Aeneid translation and that he has started his next book which he has tentatively called Underworld, and he is already three poems in, and when the Aeneid goes to press he’ll focus more on this newest book, but not […]
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The liquor bottle in the grass the blue recycling bucket likes you but not the trouble you come with. Danny P. Barbare resides in the Southern U.S. in the Upstate of the Carolinas. He has been writing poetry on and off for 33 years. He has several books available on amazon.com: Being a Janitor and Gathered Poems.
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