Why is it all about the ‘base’?

but they still talk about the Trumpist base
all ‘bout the base, not justice,
but some of that Trumpist base are fascists
it’s ’bout that base, ’bout that base, not justice
it’s all ’bout that base, ’bout that base …

Dear Antisemite; a poem for Holocaust Memorial Day

The poem below is the first of a collection it has taken me a long time to share. I’ve not been sharing my work broadly for a while, both for health reasons and the sense of being silenced. Enough said on that one. This Holocaust Memorial Day I am sharing this. It is actually being…

One Drop

One droplet in the green; the clear looking glass of eons yet to be seen, and eons of lost past; of has, was and could have been are caught within a glance; a glimmer; a projection, a globe’s circumference in each drop, queendoms, their union and divergence within neurons and electrons of those two coiling…

Poverty Lessons. — Denaya Rose

I learn to sleep on an air mattress in the one-bedroom apartment I share with my mother. We don’t have any real furniture yet, but we do have a space to call our own. There’s no overbearing or intoxicated male presence to tell us what to do, and for the first time in my life, […]…

Strange Sights

I do not get out as often as I’d like due to severe mobility & health issues. Seeing the world from up on high, complete with aerial views of early autumn hills and human habitats, is a rare thing for anyone, especially those with special access needs. Last weekend I went on a cable car…

The Dyslexic Poet

Dyslexic, yet I

write too much, the same frayed ends,

or should that be ‘to much’ –

you may read it either way;

we write to much the same ends,…

MRI x2

“Breathe in, breathe out, hold your breath,

breathe normally,”

a recorded voice instructs,

reiterates

as other sounds pierce my heart,

I feel entombed

staring at that small black hole

as I comply, …

Saffron Shores (art and poem)

Thieve me into relief or sleep,

Steal me onto far saffron shores

Where Valerian seas beget

Rests thirstier than nutmeg thoughts

Thieve me into relief or sleep.

Antonia Sara Zenkevitch

Blue Eons (Anagram Verse)

blue eons observe

lone silence’s ire,

in it yells a curse

to rile oceans;

to rouse bile in us,

yet envoys arise

to yearn,

to learn

in soul’s urn

obverse to ruin;

converse orations

annul bribes;

no absolutions

in love’s alibis

yet our orisons

vault bliss; …