Red Chimney

I wonder who lives in the house
With the bright red chimney, someone must
For on cold winter mornings
Smoke bellows from the stack
And the smell of freshly baked bread
Stops me in the thaw and snap
So, I linger for a moment
And stare at this dreamy abode
Lit by the soft edges of snow clouds
And the sun a pale embroidered gold
‘All is well with the world’ then I say to myself
All is well in the house with the red chimney

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The Demon Bean

Coffee Unctuous First sip, last drip, scrumptious No drink can comfort, the parched dry mouth Recover from mornings, the sentient self Quite like the demon bean Devilishly moreish, whoreish even as I sip her wares With cinnamon toast for company Not love, nor utopia compares Arabica, I shout, the cavernous yawn expectant Smells the roast, hears the china cup And like magic the corpse is resurrectant Then with a thank you God and a splash of cream I do baptize the demon bean

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My Pumpkin Pie Recipe

The singing ingredient (two parts aria) is for the pumpkins, the gratitude moment when the seeds go in, the months cajoling vines up the pyramid of lath, celebrating bees in the fluted yellow flower, waiting for slow golding of the green

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Brother, Can You Spare The Time?

Brother, Can You Spare The Time? To be fully present for the sensation of a moment where you can discover what lies behind the human masquerade, and have the chance to make everything in your life new again. You’ll uncover grief, sorrow and passion in the sensing of the body armor. The tragic spiritual mediocrity […]

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Fridge Magnets

  Fridge Magnets Fridge magnets make the family. Remove one and memory fails. See them linger on the broad door. A museum of trips and pics. Each moment one reaches for wholesome milk the past does its best to please.   Tim Kahl is the author of Possessing Yourself (CW Books, 2009), The Century of […]

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Bones

Bones Where I am from, women have broken fingernails that dig in the dirt like badgers, looking for bones. Bones mean yes, a lovely spot for pansies. Plant two there. We scrub our hands before dinner. We get the dead dirt rubbed off our palms like it was bad, what we did in the garden. […]

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The Bread Line

The Bread Line Bread lines on sidewalk cracks start and end with silent smugglers. Queued, ranks of worker ants scurry to moist nests in fissures, valets to white-rice eggs, nothing matters but next. Ants begin with burdens larger than their bodies. When something needs doing, she does it – skirting roadblocks, swerving to avoid gridlock. […]

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Americana II | November 9, 1965

Michael Mackin O’Mara works for a nonprofit in West Palm Beach,  Florida. He is the managing editor of the South Florida Poetry Journal concentrating on audio and video submissions. He has been published by Chantwood Magazine, Door is a Jar, Fields Magazine, Slag Review, Switched-on Gutenberg, Silver Birch Press and Indolent Books. His hobbies include photography, videography, […]

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Toast With Jam

Diane Puterbaugh lives in Jackson, TN where she practices meditation and trains for marathons. Diane has completed a chapbook titled 31 and is working on another, Contrails. She often enjoys black coffee, bird watching, and a certain brown dog. Toast With Jam Toast with jam is bread with berries. Browned bread with boiled berries is […]

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