Al Ortolani invites you to the best party this side of a galaxy far, far away in "Death Star Halloween".
We returned to our apartment; the kitchen
vibrated with crazies from the Cantina.
The Ewoks appeared with plastic
jack-o-lanterns and uninspected candy.
We dumped it on the Millennium Falcon
bedspread and left them to squabble and sort.
From one evil dickhead to another, J. Bradley's poem, "Skeletor to Donald Trump".
You never think of who is beneath you.
Your credit rating speaks for you.
You are an architect of ash and salt;
I only threaten to conquer kingdoms.
Domenic Scopa with the poem "Swimming Pool".
When the crematorium whistle
cried out, and the sound
pelted tree leaves,
the swimmers would dive
below the surface, touching
the bottom of the clear,
soundless world.
Meggie Royer's haunting poem "Antler".
All along the roads the day after,
more deer showed up in the brush.
Glistening eyes set like black pearls
inside their skulls,
drifting toward the waterway, a dark parade.
Kenneth Pobo offers a unique metaphor for the life of a collector in his poem, "Robber".
They know
they must cut back. Jerry misses
clean surfaces. Jeff dreams
of a bulldozer shoving it all
out the door.
Davon Loeb explores life after the rainbow in his poem "After the Cyclone".
Dorothy saw, only gray—all around her, a blanket of gray, like a moon flatted, ironed, and stretched its endless arms in a colorless exhaustion.
William Lessard with a poem inspired by our ever-expanding advertising landscape, "Pantheon".
King of Beers brand. Leader of the Free World brand. X-tra stuffed stuffed-crust pizza brand. #1 constipation relief brand. Brand that promises to get things moving in Washington. New Element in Outdoor Furniture brand. Wisecracking lizard car insurance brand. Brand that fights the toughest dirt. Brand that gives you killer abs or your money back.
Roy Dorman returns to Drunk Monkeys with a poem inspired by Li Po, "Our Ashes Together For All Time".
After delivering this judgment
on my romantic plan for the future,
with a small sigh,
she goes back to her reading
Grant Tarbard shares a poem inspired by the Maid of Orelans, "Remnants of Joan".
Sword too big for her slight girlish frame, clutched
blade reversed as if to say she would stab
the oncoming French army, banner held
faint in fragile fingers.
Our Writer of the Month, Scott C. Wells, with his poem "Sometimes There is Accounting for Taste".
even those
who like your likeness
agree in essence
you lack
likeability
