Poets Online Archive

Headlines

June 2013

CHEMICAL SPILL CLOSES OHIO 163

“It was an accident”, the driver of the first
pick-up explained.. He was hauling a container
if Atrazine, a weed killer, when he tried to
pass a second pick- up which he felt was
not moving fast enough.

He was in a hurry. A sunny afternoon in
Early spring when the spring plowing was
Almost finished and the ditches were filled
With fresh rain-water and little frogs singing
Their mating songs.

Atrazine is commonly used on corn fields.
It kills, among other things, Quackgrass,
Smartgrass, Crabgrass and Wild Oats.
It causes death in amphibians like small frogs.

After the clean up was completed and the stretch
Of road re-opened, it was very, very quiet.

Marian Veverka



SOLDIER MISSING ON DESERT MANEUVERS

Sun blinding down behind a lava cone.
Dark comes, but not cooling.
How long till dawn, till he sees
a distant scroll of dust - dancing-devil
moving closer, becoming truck
to take him back to camp.
Another day of seeking shadow
at his post, scanning all directions
for that dust-devil that doesn't come.
No truck to the lost horizon.
How far can a soldier walk or crawl
on two canteens of water?
Which blind star might guide him
on the death-march home?

Taylor Graham



DEFENSE SECRETARY SLIPS ON ICE

I bet he didn't
see that one coming.
Invisible enemy.
Crushed the phalanx
of his little finger
trying to break his fall
on his own front steps,
rushing out the door this morning
to the big meeting,
a big black-and-blue mark
blooming on his bum now.
And though the newspapers
aren't saying anything
about his bum, I bet
it hurts like hell to sit down
at the peace table.
He's probably wincing right now.
Which is probably why
we're all still at war.
Another beautiful fall
morning. Cold and wet,
the air full of the crisp
exquisite smells of death.

Paul Hostovsky



DATING SITE HEADLINES

The online dating site says that
"Your headline may be the most important line in your profile for attracting a match."
I start looking at profiles for ideas.
Exceptional Only Need Apply
sounds a bit pompous, but
Are you open to a wonderful possibility?
wouldn't tempt me.
The alliteration of Sexy, Sweet, Sassy and Sharp
sounds like advertising and
Brown-eyed-girl seeks an athletic man of comedy
doesn't seem like a fair trade.
Going fishing in a different pond
let's you know she has been burned before.
Is a rebound a good or bad thing?
The princess who asks
Do you have my glass slipper?
probably had Disney princess parties as a child
and still wants them.
But saying you are
The Whole Package
is a bit much.
From Jeans to an Evening Gown
is the whole package repackaged as the girl next door.
I Don't Bite (Well, Sometimes)
is going for the naughty and nice.
I agree with EarlyDawn who says
This Isn't eBay.
Maybe I should give her a Like, Poke or Wink.

Lianna Wright


BUCKET LIST BUDS BUSTED AFTER ALLEGEDLY SHOPLIFTING FROM WALMART

When the dream of a double wide is no longer sustainable,
Since that night in the trailer park the residents got so jealous
That with chains and a pickup, they yanked one off its concrete blocks
To show what happens to the high and mighty;

And since there’s no longer satisfaction in having some loser lick his liquor
From your belly button before he passes out on top of you;
And since you’re already 36, without much time left
To accomplish something worth tattooing,

You came up with this idea,
An idea you’re sure the security officer who has cuffed you will understand.
You have no need for the bikini under your tank top;
And you don’t even like the beef jerky in your cut-offs.

But your life has to mean more than a GED;
Or the ticket stub from last year’s Daytona 500
Where you were lucky enough to see three cars jump the track
And land in the crowd, killing and maiming dozens.

You tell him you can still hear the screams,
Which you reenact for him just as you do
Every time you get drunk and retell the story.
But that still doesn’t fill the hole inside you.

You want something you yourself accomplish.
Something that you were always afraid to do,
That would give you a rush to make you feel alive,
Like when he chased you through the parking lot.

On a scale of one to ten,
You smile at him,
This ranks higher
Than seducing your daughter’s prom date.

Ron Yazinski



A POOR CHILDHOOD ON A RICH ESTATE

In the beginning is how it starts
But sooner rather than later
The path you can not take
Is like a squeeze
What you lived with and is gone.

It is a perpetual argument
Fitzgerald and Hemingway
The rich are the same, the rich different
And then the surprise
In the quick biography
Of those who move away
From the seemingly predictable paths.

A poet of ordinary loneliness
Wrote about the "foreign bodies," in ads
For the fancy magazines
It did not matter if you were rich or poor
Time gave you curiosity
But did it give you love?.

Edward Halperin



"KNOW YOUR NEIGHBORS: NAZI COMMANDER REPORTEDLY LIVING IN MINNESOTA"

No matter age wants to break his back,
once assured the last big freeze has passed,
Mr. Karkoc is on his knees, forcing the ground
to yield to his shovel so he can plant his seeds.

At 94, he has no quarrel with any man alive.
He keeps his garden and he breaks his bread,
and burns his trash in a barrel in the backyard.
The smoke that billows up makes him cry.

Police arrive on a sunny April morning.
They want to talk to Mr. Karkoc about
his wartime service for Nazi Germany.
"I don't think I can explain," he says.

Mr. Karkoc closes and locks the door.
His hand moves to his favorite shovel,
and he shuffles slowly to his garden.
It is time to break the sod again.

Anita Sanz



A FRIENDLY MUGGING

In case you were wondering,
I don’t mind any more. No regrets.
How much I truly believe myself?
That’s a whole other story. In my
defense, you guys managed to creep
into my pores and devour my organs
and soul. This dramatic enough? I’m
trying to get the point across that my
words are no longer mine – they are
ours. My heart is no longer betrayed by
my actions – it is betrayed by our actions.
The thoughts that run through my head
before bed and manage to take laps
around the pond, well, they are not my
thoughts. Not even ours. This time, they
are the offspring of maybe
our mothers. You see mine is atheist,
yours is Christian, yours is orthodox, and
well his mother is dead. They are
to blame. They are to blame.
But look at me boys. I
still wear that faded jean jacket and eat
the same obnoxious amount of guacamole
and chips after school. I still paint my nails
that metallic color that some of you like
and others could do without. I haven’t
changed that much. I lured all three of you
in with what I like to believe was my
charm but probably instead my thick
coating of rum-colored lipstick that led you
three to believe otherwise. Oh, how you all fell
for me. You scraped your knees in the process
and managed to get your tongues tied in
double knots more than you would prefer
to admit. Me? Conceited? Perhaps. But
it’s true, you all loved me. Don’t worry. I
won’t put you on the spot and ask you if
you boys still do. So here’s
the thing, you loved me, and I loved parts
of all of you. Parts. Like in a play.
Unfortunately, I was the one who didn’t
make the cut. What the fuck guys? I
thought I was the director. You tossed me
out like a napkin that sealed the imprint of my
kiss, promise, smudged lipstick. Why did
you all leave the table before I finished my
veggie burger? Not cool kids. Not cool.

Lately though, lately I think about love.
I think about how I love my mom and I
love expensive hair accessories. Unashamed,
I will admit I love all three of you. I forgive
you all for slithering your bad
habits into this machine of my body.
I feel like it is ours. The lies I tell are ours. You
wrote and I rehearsed; we can now start that
comedy club we dreamed of. The dishonesty
with myself? You taught me that! Don’t worry
I give you credit. You really
did a masterful job of sucking all the trust out
of my blood. No wonder I remain disturbed.
No one else can ever gnaw away at me like you
did, dispose of me like the core of an apple. I need
some time to meditate and think things over
about this dirty world we live in. By the way,
was it necessary to also steal my seeds?
You will never be able to plant the
trees that shaded our small toes caked
with brown earth. You are nothing without
me. I know you feel the confusion mounted
on your shoulders the way disappointment
weighs down my gut. And you! Don’t you
hide in the appliance aisle of Bed Bath
and Beyond. Come out, come out
wherever you are. Ha! Found ya!
Behind the rack of aloe-infused socks.
Really? This is where you seek refuge?
I’m turned off, and I wasn’t ever looking
for your virginity. Gosh, some people are
just so sensitive. But now as I walk through
the park, I reminisce about the time you
taught me how to balance on a long
board – I smile – I smile that crooked smile
you all had not anticipated falling for and
managed to keep among your cerebral
snapshots. You all left me, and I
still love you all. I love the memories
that make up my not so glamorously
medicated youth. What I’m trying to say
is, Mazel Tov to me! I have grown up
and let my expectations and hopes go.
I released them like the petals to the
many cheap corsages that never stayed
intact. But I still hold three limp stems and
I am uneasy about where to place them. Behind
my right ear they remain tucked. I will
wait for who I love to come back. I let you go,
now you must come back. Do you think
any of you will come back?

Brooke Moskowitz



IN THE TWISTER'S PATH

He awoke to the sound of a tornado
tearing toward his home.
He opened the screen door.
The wind beat it with a drumming sound.
Beyond the edge of his porch,
he saw a wall of rain, wind, and darkness.

He almost left the home.
He thought he was prepared,
but he was not. He felt like a rat
ready for the wind to rip something.

A barn fell on two horses.
The neighbors said two dogs were missing.

Twisted pieces of his workshop
were scattered across the yard,
in the fields, in the ditches,
and in the parking lot
of a store down the road.

He made chainsaw carvings
in his workshop and traveled to fairs
where he sold his carvings.

The largest of the three angels had a wing torn off.
A bear too large for a lumberjack to lift
had disappeared along with the littlest angel.

Bobbie Townsend



HEADLINES

Monday
AVALANCHE BURIES VILLAGE

Tuesday
BANK FAILS
BOMB EXPLODES

Wednesday
BRIDGE COLLAPSES
CHILD DROWNS
EARTHQUAKE FLATTENS CITY

Thursday
HEADLESS BODIES FOUND
HOUSE BURNS
MINERS TRAPPED
OFFICER SHOT

Friday
PILEUP KILLS SIX
PRIEST ACCUSED
PRISONERS RIOT
REFINERY EXPLODES
SHOOTER GOES ON RAMPAGE

Saturday
SINKHOLE OPENS
STOCKS TUMBLE
THOUSANDS PERISH
TOWERS FALL
UNEMPLOYMENT RISES
VOLCANO ERUPTS

Sunday
DROUGHT THING OF THE PAST
JEWS AND PALESTINIANS CELEBRATE PEACE ACCORD
LAST NUKE DESTROYED
MARS BASE GROWING
POVERTY ERADICATED IN AFRICA
WORLD ENERGY NOW 80% RENEWABLE
LAST NON-ROBOTIC HUMAN DIES AT 112

Robert Miller



IN PRAISE OF POPULAR MECHANICS

The noisy clamor of stars and planets echoes
and bounces down the deep silence of space.

And the particles that once so carelessly hurtled
out from that first great explosion, in concentric
circles whirling and swirling into galaxies of rarest
splendor, are even now formed and transformed
in new and marvelous ways: each of them
still participants in this elegant cosmic dance.

But here, alone on my little patch of earth, I remain
conquered by such huge beauty; searching for
truth beyond reach of mind, clinging to reason
while faith lies dormant.

Then, in a big bang of inspiration, I realize we are all
made of this selfsame stardust! our lives intimately
woven into the great tapestry of things!

Astonished, I look up into the night sky, and the
whole brilliant universe winks and returns my gaze.

Maddison Ross





Tea Party

The kettle that looked like Adolf Hitler
started shrieking.
"Ein oder zwei sugar?"
asked our host,
and a couple of us got it:
Teutonic ironic.

Anthony Nannetti