The purr at the back door announces the delivery of another mouse.
cold sunrise
the saucer of milk
empty again
Bob Lucky
A Measure
As an asteroid savages the earth an iceberg savages a ship so out of time which incidentally no longer exists my music excavates last dinosaur last passenger to die I tinker with the notes to harmonise the two therefore I am…
ice cubes
in his tequila sunrise
an upturned hourglass
Diana Webb
danse macabre
beyond the limits of your imagination (or mine), without any blink of an eye, an unoriginated wind is winnowing its harvest.
you (the reader) will have been reading this long before I (the writer) am conceiving any image to embody its crafting
as stick figures
a fine rain trickles along
the woodcut’s grooves
Hansha Teki
Lustrate
The eaves-drip dead are tightly-packed, close by the walls of the old parish church. Once, grieving mothers kept a close eye on the heavens; prayed to God for thickening cloud; for rain that might fall on the chantry roof; sanctified rain that would pour from the mouths of chimeras and baptise their newly born dead.
fallen branches
dead man’s fingers *
grasp the light
*Xylaria polymorpha, commonly known as dead man’s fingers, is a type of fungus. It often grows on decaying wood.
Alan Peat
Acceptance
All the roads mistaken brought me here.
late winter the promise of overcast skies
Bob Lucky
John Smith
John Smith, the son of John Smith, the son of John Smith, the son of John Smith, the son of John Smith, the son of John Smith, the son of John Smith, the son of John Smith, cast a shadow like his fathers, but left it by a drying lake.
no use
discussing sleeplessness
with an acorn
Johannes S. H. Bjerg/editor
TOB is open for submissions
Christ has risen! Happy Easter to all readers. The Other Bunny is now open for submissions again.
Riverside Bench
A place to meditate, take stock. A place to gauge how an elusive dream can reach new levels of intensity.
quicksilvered by sun
How long to live in order to attain the full extent of that innate creative flow.
span of an egret’s flight
Within the context of the universe ‘s life, one small planet’s aquamarine hue, viewed from afar, just ripples with the splendid insignificant.
a space of water
Diana Webb
Over Troubled Waters
trolley wheels
beneath me
floating island
gleam in the eye of one nurse to another mask to mask has she heard of haiku and yes I am a grandmother
full grown cygnets
the brown flood waters
white with sunlight
nearly over now a gleam in the eye of one to another above her mask it’s nearly
shaded garden
a patch of sunlight
brightens the fence
and now it’s really over really over do you take sugar and would you prefer…
the bliss
after so many hours
a sip of tea
Diana Webb
The Other Hand
After writing all morning, I set off to watch the sun hover over the desert. I hike into the mountains and sit against an aspen tree. From above, I see the desert floor spread out, a vast porch leading to a well-lit house beyond the horizon, many of its rooms, though, filled with darkness.
rice paper
raven song from the end
of my brush
raven song from the end
of my brush
Keith Polette
the other bunny 
You must be logged in to post a comment.