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Pink Cloud by Sophia Ewing |
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DARLING DONNIE
By Evan Myquest whatever was darling donnie thinking of going in the ring with just one boxing glove who realized the harm darling donnie only had one arm but when the other guy has two one glove and one arm just won't do so in a career very short darling donnie lasted the length of his opponents first snort he took his whaling then lay there on the canvas and thought about sailing GNAW, NOT AGAIN By Evan Myquest the cleaver leaves it cleft but the beaver only leaves it dammed at best the adept lever user pushes hard to the left and then bereaver is bereft with all this going on no sleeper could have slept except for the stealthy bridge leaper who lept this railing leaver with no note left but also remains damned at best taking with him the tailor's sleever and now his jacket to be remains a vest how deft a leap to cleave a far below wave and tug a toiling tailor by the sleeve by your leave I do believe the beaver saved the pair of leapers left them a yelping bam upon his dam and neatly netted by would be beaver keepers | |
Pucker Up by Sophia Ewing | |
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GROUCHO SAYS, YES, THE DEFYING PART IS DEFINITELY THE TOUGHEST By Evan Myquest the marathon winner with his pants around his ankles is a feat defying imagination yet defy imagination and see what it gets you stand up stand up tell imagination where you part glad company with luck it will follow you and beg forgiveness better fish have fried for less when did imagination bend when did it cry like a stumbled child when it was defied of course against the odds of regaining purchase such defiance is often rewarded manyfold why that glorious lesson of the woman and the bus driver applies to more progress than history will know large victories from small voices small choices and small pushbacks imagination defied turns to imagination truly magnified ask Lydia the fan dancer caught in the draft she bared fore when she should've bared aft NO, NO, NOT THE BASEMENT By Evan Myquest got my popcorn bushel got my juicy juju duds bucket of coca cola got my right shoes on my right pants on my right shirt my right electronics settling in to watch 'the teenagers' ready to follow them as they sneak away to make out into the dark woods into the attics into the basements into the scooby clutches of sewer demons into the chainsaws nailguns & bfg blowups into the cars cycles atv fired up jumps doughnuts leaps drifts watch them die screaming against walls beds doors windows tents as the blades penetrate them through whatever is behind them whatever has their backs gives them security man those teenagers can invent ways to die awestruck by the eye candy of digging them forty feet tall in bloody slaughterhouse pieces on conveyors what do they know they are not telling us ah youth is to the young & does as youth does but they can sure scream | |
little bunny foo foo by Sophia Ewing | |
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WRITE TO STRIKE
By Evan Myquest this poem is not for publication the poet is on strike know what that means poet on strike is a torturee withholding screams  Evan Myquest |
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