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 Mar 2020 kate
Evan Stephens
You're sitting in profile
in your favorite red jacket.
Your one eye focuses
on maple pages,
a sweep of hair
recklessly dashes
across the water
of your brow.

When the connection drops,
you are frozen like that,
scalloped by shadow,
sleeveless purple shirt
drifting an eclipse
up your arm.

For a profile like that,
I would sell all of this...
 Mar 2020 kate
Keyana Brown
You got me feeling
in a sort of way,
the way you look at me
feels good everyday.

You got me feeling
in a sort of way,
when you smile at me
it shows that I'll be ok.

I don't know what to do,
or know what to say,
it's your precious love
that is getting in the way.

Dear God, please control
my wandering emotions,
his love is like a rollercoaster
moving me in rapid motions.

You are the best thing in my life,
for you love me as you may
because all I know is that,
you got feeling in a sort of way.
 Mar 2020 kate
Aditya Roy
Isolation
 Mar 2020 kate
Aditya Roy
Finally, I said
Wear a grin
The President's men
Have left
In these times
There is sin
Before the junk jangles
And the fire burns the forest
All the corruption is corrupt
And all the bankrupt are ruptured
And we are drinking alcohol
In the concrete jungle
 Mar 2020 kate
Commuter Poet
What are you dreaming of?

You seem so comfortable and warm
Lying curled up on my bed

What goes through your mind
When your eyes are closed
And your breathing is slow?

What is it you are dreaming of?

What will tomorrow bring for you?
What is it that you long for?
What does happiness mean to you, I wonder?

Are your dreams different from my own?
What is it you are dreaming of?
Poppy, one of my cats lies sleeping on my bed
25th March 2020
 Mar 2020 kate
Samantha Renee
i was drunk off of your physical touch
every other part became the hangover.
 Mar 2020 kate
Samantha Renee
this is my poetry
my creation, in words
as i am reborn through
the outpouring of thoughts
all coming together
to create
the picture in my head
 Mar 2020 kate
Liz Rossi
last night the wolves came.

there are plum bruises across the sky
and mountains burnt white with faded sun and there’s a path seared sharp into the pines that brightens as the sky dims.


there’s a nameless man beneath the gallows
squatting like a carrion-bird at a ****. a
smile splits his face like a wound
there’s blood like spilled wine, great grinning
pools of it, and the snows are thirsty to drink


and there’s a woman with a story like a knife
and nothing to lose, and she sharpens her words and follows the fraying path into the woods.


the wolves come.

they always do.
 Mar 2020 kate
sofia
fiction
 Mar 2020 kate
sofia
they’d been hurt
had scars on their facade
they’d unpleasant stories
had secrets and sorrows
but not to her fiction
to every happiness
flawless facade
tranquil stories—almost lullaby;
unfathomable joy
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