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Mark Toney Nov 2019
When I was growing up in Wisconsin, dairy farms were everywhere.  It was always fun visiting my aunt and uncle's dairy farm, even though they put me to work.  For many years the only bathroom they had was away from the house!  I read an article today about people complaining about smells coming from dairy farms and pig farms.  It reminded me when our family would drive the 3 1/2 hours to visit Grandma and Grandpa.  Some farms hardly had any bad odor, but others reeked!  This was especially horrible to us city kids.  "Mom, what's that smell?" my sisters and I would ask every time.  We asked Mom because she'd answer us.  Dad would only laugh.  Good times!  

Midwest dairy farms
intermittent putrid stench-
fun childhood road trips
10/28/2019 - Poetry form: Haibun - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2018
Knit Personality Oct 2019
As white as Wisconsin,
    As white as Ed Gein,
As white as Tommy Thompson,
    It's a white Halloween.  

                          —Boulder, CO
                              10/31/2019

O.O
Benjamin Mar 2019
Fly home, to the bittersweet,
to the mill pond with the fuzzy water—
that thick green ****—or "scuzz" as you called it—
where the bullheads hid—
a can of corn could catch them;

I saw ghosts across in the cemetery—
visiting graves with their cold white orchids
and speaking of life like it passed already
on the old freight train that sometimes
crossed those bridges;

somewhere beyond, an old Native died—
at the end of his trail, not a song left to sing,
though now of course, he’s immortal, in bronze,
in his saddest pose,
on his darkest day;

in the center of town are the great prison walls,
a limestone reminder of who we are not,
and who, if we hated our gods, could become
in the blink of an eye—
in the absence of love;

and home is the smallest house on the street
near where our mothers made parts for the War,
and if I get the time, I ought to visit that place,
to fish in the pond—
and catch up with old ghosts.
emma hunt david Dec 2018
this is my favorite pair of jeans.
they fit my legs tight and then loose and the color keeps to itself.

this is my favorite sweater.
it keeps me warm and it’s the color of moss.

i’ve been wearing the same shirt for three days, but i’ve showered between those days
i’ve been seeing you for a week but you’ve talked to your girlfriend between those days.
my neighbor threw my clothes on the floor cause he needed the dryer
so now i have to wash them all over again and i don’t have $3,
the machine ate two so i only have one left

your copy of rear window is on my floor.
your copy of monty python is on my floor.

thick hair, thick hands, thick wool,
i’m thinning but you’re only getting warmer

i’m tired of men entering my life and taking all of my heat right before winter comes.
Knit Personality Jun 2017
There once was a man from Green Bay
Who made it a habit each day
   To ****** an udder
   And churn his own butter,
Then go for a nap in the hay.

#
Kaitlin Evers Oct 2016
Standing by a lake
It is simple
Though this feeling is not
One that cannot be contrived
Nor bought
                Only caught
In places like this
When God leans down from heaven
To plant a kiss
Feel your worries blown away
See the waves TOSS, them away
Sleeping heart awake
It is a brand new day
Martin Narrod Oct 2015
Origins of these golden hairs
My confidence hasn't died with you
Picture frames, store bought frames
With families already inside of them.

Glowing lights, described
Inside a children's book.
Riddled with sexuality and cruelty-
Golden lions abate them.
The standard has now been risen, keep up while you can

Short legs dragging through airport
Corridors so many businessmen
Envy-driven and greed-streaked
Cannibals in arm's reach.

My furry caterpillar claws
Your bite-sized lips, bright red
From kisses past tense. Storm fires Pouring igneous dark matter and gold
Into a deep mystery, well mostly just a mystery to me.
Andrew Dunham Jun 2015
MKE
I can’t say we’re the same but I too have lost large parts of me to greener pastures
Your dark bricks turn to dust and paint the snow a red maroon
“The stories they’d tell”
Says everyone sad to see them crumble but not sad enough to do anything about it
“Someone should do something”
Someone, but not they
Milwaukee I too am a lot like you, if you only knew
How far I slid sickly over the Kinnickinnic oil slicks
Past fallen trees and draining pipes
Until being caught by a shopping cart
Left on the muddy banks by some poor poor impoverished soul
Who also didn’t really care enough to return it to the Pick & Save
From which it was taken
I’ve sure seen better days and I too have come a long way
Like I got on to Fond Du Lac Avenue and kept walking
Until I reached
Well...
Fond Du Lac
Like I ascended Kilbourn Park with a pick-axe
Defeated the yeti on top and shoved your blue flag
Through his heart, cracking it open like a Pabst or Schlitz can
and dropped a quarter in a homeless guy’s jar
And he told me I was just like you
I can too burn bright like the foundries in the valley
Or roar like railcars and rattle the south side
Or be courageous like the captain
Sailing to Muskegon
Over choppy freshwater treachery
I can shutter in peace like your factories when I fall asleep
And never wake back up
I can drive all my loved ones away
Just like you have
For the past five decades
I’m exactly like you
Because I too
Wait for a sunnier day
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