the sieve and the sand

Leaving the wheat with the chaff. This is not your mother’s poetry.

one poem

by rcribay

i
lose myself
in bustling paper cities
peering through high rises
and alleyways
beneath overpasses
and soiled park benches
within rush hour crowds
and last calls

in hopes of finding that

one poem

you will never
forget.

projectile vomit (battle of vomitor and vomitee)

by Roger Mugs

(why we should learn from our
fellow children and sick adults alike)

(and why taboo topics always smell
better)

though spoken of lowly
accomplishes two things it

works as a firearm smothering
even the most prepared parents
in agent ‘green’

stings the nostrils – cleans
even the esophagus on it’s way out

not to mention it keeps the vomit-or
spotless

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