I hold the feather’s weight of your artery in my pick-ups,
and tiptoe the tightrope about which life and death abuts.

You’re a 2 AM trauma and we still don’t know your name,
the social worker’s thin lips had mouthed: “estranged.”

I read your anatomy like a text as you flat-line:
your hands turn blue as your heart falls still in mine.

The monitor hums "out of time," but by Epinephrine,
and Grace, your chest resumes its rise.

I leave trauma bay in prayer: for the surviving, not the knife;
for the closeness of my hands in your chest, our joining in this life.

Tonight I see you at the Kroger, buying TV dinners and beer.
I hide behind cereal, admiring the life I’d held dear.

But you look so tired, and my heart breaks for how when you died,
I would’ve sold the shoes off my feet to buy you more time.

I wish you knew how precious was each of your heartbeats,
I wish you the wisdom of my view:

How fragile the stent is where your veins meet.

1747

The parasol is the umbrella’s daughter,
And associates with a fan
While her father abuts the tempest
And abridges the rain.

The former assists a siren
In her serene display;
But her father is borne and honored,
And borrowed to this day.

do you see the homeless man,
huddled in a corner where the parking lot
abuts the brickwork,
and the thin cardboard below
does what it can to keep the chill away
from his bones?
he was once proud and able,
they trained him to think,
to fight and survive,
to walk into the oncoming storm
and meet it with equal fury,
a machine gun in one hand
and kevlar protecting him.
a soldier, he was,
now sitting alone and forgotten,
avoided by most
because he smells of dirt and ****,
and businessmen cross the street
just so they won't have to look him in the eye.
they all say "we should do something about that"
but they don't mean it,
until the homeless man comes begging at their stoop,
and they threaten to call the cops on him
so he doesn't drive away business.
if they looked in his eyes,
would they see his nobility,
his pride in that he stood,
with his brothers and sisters in arms,
for a way of life now denied him?
or would he hide that from them,
and leave quietly to return to his parking lot corner,
and sit on the thin cardboard,
letting the chill seep into his bones?

by Martin H. Levinson

I’d rather read the Sunday papers
than write this poem, for I can’t think
of anything to say and the yard needs
mowing, the car needs washing,

the tub needs scrubbing and I think
I’ll make myself a cup of coffee,
have a bit of the raisin scone I bought
this morning at Briermere Farms, fresh

from the oven and the finish of a
two-mile stroll along the banks of the
Peconic where I watched a vesper sparrow
circle lazy in the sky, a cumulus cloud

hang low on the horizon, an alice blue
kayak sail slowly past a McDonald’s
parking lot that abuts the water upon
which floated a white plastic coffee lid

and two cigarette stubs that seemed
horribly out of place in a place where
fluke, flounder, and striped bass hail from
and swans, geese, and Carolina ducks

also call home.

It's hard to admit
That you no longer my twin

Your absence ripped my heart
Left it bleeding
Am out of plasters to cover the sores

Was it worthy it for you to leave?
Am cold and scared to live in this cage
I miss being squashed around your warm arms
Giggling and smiling
Your soft hands moving around my physique

Our funny chats and passionate kisses
Is all i need
Maybe if we could meet
Our eye contacts will abuts the dead feelings
Reminds you the good times we had
And promises you've made

Was about to give you all of me
Because i heed how cosy i am when you are around
But that is water under the bridge now

-Lakhana

NdinguNontlalo
NdinguNontlalontle
Am not your friend
Nor your enemy
But that person you need when you lost in the mist
Like a lonely sheep in the field

I abuts the weary lion inside you
Only need your say
Only need your courage
You with me it can roar
Not for you only
But for the whole community

I am the social worker
I direct you to paradise
So you won't get hungry again
So you won't always need me

I make no decision
You make it by yourself
I only guide you to right path
NdinguNontlalontle

-Lakhana Mnyani

Expanse of green acres draped
like a petticoat when ye arrive
birds of a feather flock together
and bees gather collect nectar,
pollen, and water to bolster their hive
verdant vista sports
spot for wildlife to thrive
such as; whitetail deer, red fox,
Easter bunnies, garter snakes.

Not only state of the art plumbing
(that would put Cloāca Maxima to shame)
for public restrooms in the works
but facilities at Highland Manor apartments
located in Schwenksville, Pennsylvania
in the 19473 zip code
(within dead man walking distance
of Perkiomen Watershed)
offers one bedroom and studio apartments
(built in 1969 with 84 units)
geared for sixty plus year old young Turks

adjacent to Maple Hill Community
abuts against pristine physical environment
offers (luscious green acres
at petticoat junction)
sporting residents such as yours truly
who would best be described
with individuals with their harmless quirks
far from the madding crowd,
yet linkedin to historical networks
sporting pleasant female management klerks
though less ideal for couples

with young children,
who clamor to know howstuffworks
and might best visit
Valley Forge National Park
and amble along redoubts and earthworks
or if in the mood to drive
to visit Pennsylvania Dutch Country
(as a day tripper - yeah)
head off to County Berks
home to an Old Order Mennonite community
consisting of about 160 families.

Classified as low income
(courtesy rural housing authority)
those whose finances pinched
can breathe a sigh of relief
at affordable rent
and if gifted with housing choice voucher
(formerly known as section 8 -
the Housing Act of 1937,
often called Section 8,
as repeatedly amended,
authorizes the payment
of rental housing assistance
to private landlords on behalf
of low-income households
in the United States)
can rest assured said voucher accepted.

In 2007, Democrats took control
of the borough council for the first time
in the borough's history,
nevertheless Republicans
joust kick/jump start opponents to unseat:
Elderly population who reside on premises
each own a story to tell, who if prompted
would possibly eagerly respond
talking about a simpler way of life
such as yours truly,

who attended Henry Kline Boyer Elementary
each of the six grades
yours truly did nearly repeat
(one classroom per grade learning facility)
long since obsolete:
all manner of therapy animals accepted
but best to with Lisa Varley Wacker
to house unusual pet such as lorikeet
for those unlearned folks said creature
a colorful and vibrant species of parrot
known for its distinctive beak

and tongue adaptations
that allow it to feed on pollen
and nectar from flowers:
Most residents sequestered
in their respective unit,
thus I infrequently witness
exhibit behavior hashtagged as indiscreet
with a total unit size
of 43,575 Square Feet,
whereby a thin layer
of carpeting covers concrete.