In summer, melancholic mist
floats friendless ‘cross the fertile fields,
as he looks lonely and unkissed,
and to his dread depression yields.

By noon, when dreary darkness falls,
he hears a soulful, singing bird.
From tree to tree the creature calls.
Last sound, he knows, that will be heard.

Above, the shrouded, silent sun
stands still, or so it seems to be.
Below, this dismal devil’s son
swings slowly on his Judas-Tree.

The following extrapolated
thought thread exercised,
NOT utilized to intimate
how Fats Domino belied,
and wowed a crowded house as-sized.

As a former ace procrastinator, I abhor
putting off doing what best ought
to get immediate attention bar
ring some extenuating dire circumstance,
sans mishap with flying carpet
case in point being unexpected a bomb
bin able crisis necessitating
hypothetical individual impossible
to remain calm
while in the process
(assisted with good ole mom)

The cloak camouflaged smoke-grey sky a
mask above, and the unsteady drunk
trees shedding its coat of gold leaves

scuttling, scraping, skidding to another

location travelling to random places, supported
by the sail of gust like a sailboat unsteady without
a sea captain and no destination

The path less traveled
Giving up a valued gift
That we hold most dear

With maybe enough money
to make it to Los Angeles,
I hoped he had enough to stay
ahead of the monsters he knew well.

The ones that had him on the run
somewhere around Bakersfield,
where I last heard from him.

All these years later, with struggles of my own,
I sometimes smile to myself, thinking
I might see him again someday, healed,
while I wait for the corner light to change.

I took a college
spelling test
to see which words
I spelled the best.

When morning came,
I rose and drest.
I told myself,
"Don't be so strest!"

But, after all,
if I regrest,
I might leave scholars
less imprest.

So I exhaled,
bravely addrest
the worries that I
then possest.

I forged ahead,
my thoughts exprest
on words that
sometimes felt supprest.

Reckoned to spell,
but reassest
that most were wrong
(and quite opprest!)

There it sits on cinder blocks,
A dank three room shack.
The kind if you duck a bullet will wheeze by
Pass the refrigerator and out the back door.

It’s a little creepy with its 70s brocade heavy curtains and thick sticky dust.
A slipcover over a molded brown couch
Blood sucking dust mites nibbling through bedclothes.
Would not think a ghost would want to
Settle there.

i wrote my number on a small sheet of paper for a woman of her kind to find
and as i stepped to the stage ready to make my break i knew i had forgotten the lines
so a crisp chill went down my spine
and my bones ached as i took my time to apologize
she told me babe don’t worry still, we’re all slackers at heart
but if you ever want to make it in this industry, you'll have to know how to play the part

Change You
Written by Kelly Ann Wilson

I have faced many trials in my life

Yet, I remain a steadfast dreamer of wild and reckless dreams.

I have suffered unbearable pain

Still, I strive to be a safe and gentle place.

I have seen unimaginable cruelty in front of my own eyes.

But I look every spring for the flowers when they bloom.

I have been dismantled
Chipped away at, piece by piece
Until I couldn’t even recognize myself.

Ever since a young lad
irritable bowel syndrome
in my humble pinion wracked
lower abdominal area
gurgled and ballooned gastrointestinal tract
(similar to following Colonoscopy preparation
slated for January 24th, 2024
at Phoenixville Hospital)
posterior issuing
vis a vis borborygmus crooning
in tandem and/or subsequent expulsion

eliminates fecal waste
witnessing sprinting to bathroom, this scribe
(against time) and jet propulsion
of sphincter muscles'
spasmodic desperately raced