Or not.
swansong
no legendary
descending octave
Helen Buckingham
tiny haibun
ALICE IN CORONALALALAND 5: THE CHESHIRE CAT
circling his ‘i’s he fine toons his (spleen + bleach) speech
rearranging
the lecterns
on the titanic
Helen Buckingham
what if
I would wake up inside a peony small like an elf and it’s sunday
two pinkish mice
track for mask parcels
summer wind
Isabella Kramer
ALICE IN CORONALALALAND 2: THE THREE A’S
Asleep all day.
Awake all night.
Alive. (In spite of a certain FaceTime tea party.)
out of the frying pan–
no one to bellyache
Helen Buckingham
1984
From the car speaker, a recorded voice of a municipal employee repeats again: “stay at home”… the orwellian visions are overwhelming.
quarantine night
I wake up
into the silence
Andrea Cecon
Raging Bull
The rodeo clown’s eleven-gallon hat left in the dust.
zin drawn
from an old oaken barrel
the winemaker snorts
Zane Parks
WIDE OPEN
Sunrise after sunrise, a precious totem illuminated under western skies.
delicate balances
a sense of urgency
in a large space
Gary Hittmeyer
Solitude
On the road there is only an ageless man with the hands marked by illness. He is sitting on the sidewalk close to the traffic lights.
rain –
the bowl of a beggar
overflows
Antonio Mangiameli
ALICE IN CORONALALALAND
…..remember…..what the dormouse said…..
dawn
life’s
avatar
Helen Buckingham
N.T.
the tide is ebbing. time for the old sailor to express the transience and emptiness of it all in a single breath. a final, salty breath.
ocean wind –
the wings of an albatross
become a flute
Stephen Toft
