The monk makes it all look plausible. His beatific smile is in itself an aspiration.

butterflies between the brows stillness darts

The mind makes notes of all the things that need letting go.

After five days, realisation dawns. Clinging looks appealing. Nirvana is best in small doses.

And anyway, from what he says, we all probably have a zillion lives before we can levitate.

morphine shots
halos behind
every tree

 

Shobhana Kumar

New Year’s Eve. Scanning the ether for something beyond
another decade’s weight in fireworks.

telescope poised
lest Betelgeuse croak
700 years before us

Helen Buckingham

Dear Joseph,

Thank you for your submissions to XXXXXXXX. After consideration I have decided not to accept them for publication in the magazine. Sorry. Your poems are expressed economically and are of interest but seem incomplete to me. There is no juxtaposition, no playing off of two separate images to communicate an experience or insight. If you are planning to submit work to future issues of the magazine, I would advise looking at the haiku featured on the XXXXXXXX website. Most of them use juxtaposition, with the poets typically cutting the poem into two unequal parts, inserting a break after the first or second line. It may also be useful to look at the essays by YYYYYYYY also on the website.

Kind regards

ZZZZZZZZ

poppies    outside the lines

 

Joseph Aversano

Last night, you dreamt that seven of your ten well-tended fingernails had fallen out. Completely. Painlessly, for you no longer have the capacity to experience your own hurt. The soft tissues shiny without protection, yet soon to dry with exposure to air. Come morning, after checking your hands in the sunlight pouring through the slats of the bedroom blinds, you claw the tattered Dream Bible from the shelf, flipping through the pages until you come upon the appropriate entry. And swear you will never let this happen again.

parlor game
a four-letter word
for goodbye

Kelly Sauvage Angel