the void

by chuck leary

a bird flew across the sky then another then another a pigeon landed on the roof then another then another juan delivered a pizza then another willie delivered an american grinder with fries maurice got up then went back to bed then maurice got up again maurice remembered carol i’ll kill hat bitch, he said to himself actually he said it aloud, but nobody heard him down the hall jack got up then he went back to bed a pigeon landed on the roof then another juan delivered another pizza willie took a break and called charlene a bird flew across the sky and then another an ant crawled across the sidewalk and then another this is just a small sample people say life is mysterious but what is so mysterious about it?

kitten up a tree

by chuck leary

o mother mother must i die yes my child and here is why birds no longer fill the skies and the seas begin to rise kittens no longer climb up trees or butterflies float on the breeze grandma’s recipe for cherry pie is lost and forgotten (sigh) i fear that since i saw you last the present has destroyed the past humans have run out of room and are ruled by an empire of doom i have to say this makes me sad you were the only child i had living in the only universe and things are steadily getting worse i can’t remember, though i try if i was the kitten or the butterfly if you were the tree i climbed or only the blue sky i left behind

the shadow

by horace p sternwall

a beggar, sitting in the shade of a bridge, watched a traveler approach. the traveler’s shadow fell on the bridge. o traveler, cried the beggar, give me what i want. the traveler, not breaking stride as he crossed the bridge, laughed. but i do not know what you want, the traveler replied, not glancing down at the beggar. i want whatever you have, cried the beggar - a bird, a bag of gold, a book with pretty colored pictures, your soul, your memories, a letter to the emperor testifying to my unique worth, a mythical beast, immortal life - anything. i have a shadow, said the traveler, laughing, you can have that. and the traveler’s shadow stayed behind on the bridge for a few seconds after the traveler had crossed it. the beggar reached for the shadow but the sun went down and the shadow vanished. the beggar continued to sit beside the bridge for many years, calling to the travelers who crossed it to give him what he wanted, to give him anything they had.

2 more poems

by horace p sternwall

around the fireplace up in the city, down on the farm a rollicking yarn will do you no harm around the fireplace, listen to the rain and a tale with the wallop of a freight train and what really makes a story go best is the introduction of a mystery guest whose sudden appearance always must alter the entire narrative thrust come on grandpa, do we really have to wait a whole week to hear the hero's fate? and grandpa sez, don't holler, don't shout just stayed tuned - and find out b

water in the stream who will save the last wanderer when he falls in the last stream who will wake the dreamer dreaming the last dream i fell in the gutter and the gutter kept flowing i, like the water do not know where i’m going

2 poems

by horace p sternwall

dream of a hero in the insane rioting of his soul he knew he had to play the role of a debonair lothario and go on with the show as the huns rode over the hill he stood perfectly still and with the trace of a smile said "darling, i may be a while" "not too long, darling, please" she sank to her satin covered knees through the french window he strolled to a sunset red and gold where are the heroes of yesteryear? who laughed at fate and smiled at fear? and what would they now defend? for, alas, we have come to the end the garden is barren of flowers the day is bereft of hours the telephone in the drawing room waits for a call from an empty tomb

a vision of erernity i dreamed i went to heaven and all the seats were taken st peter smiled and shook my hand ’twas then i did awaken i wish i could remember what st peter had to say for it would surely comfort me on yet another dreary day

dumpster

by chuck leary

illustrations by roy dismas

i remember when men were men and women batted their lashes and that was a world, a great world but now it has turned to ashes i remember when men were g i joe and krauts and japs were patsies and the g i s stormed the beaches and saved the world from the nazis i remember when john wayne roamed the jungles of iwo jima and died like a hero at the alamo with other gallant old timers and dirty harry asked all punks if they felt lucky today and the punks were grateful he let them live because that was the american way but none of that remains because everything has changed now men are women and women are men and the world will never be the same again where are the mad scientists the vampires with their kisses the werewolves howling at the moon the heroes defying fate and doom they are only a little way down the road in history’s big green dumpster i see you there on top of the bridge but there is no need to jump, sir! every world that ever existed is down there in the street and if you listen to the clouds you can hear their dancing feet

understanding

by wiggly jones, "the little hippie boy"

i wrote a poem and explained everything real good but nobody paid attention nobody understood i told them what was wrong and how to make it right but now i sit alone in my little room at night i hear coyotes howling or maybe they’re just cats or people banging garbage cans with baseball bats whatever it is they make a lot of noise and show a great indifference to simple peaceful joys the world is a symphony of self-generating altercation the train is off the tracks but people wait at the station maybe if they all listened to my message of love the oceans would vanish in a puff of smoke and the skies cave in above