Not a Star

unconscious wish a gurgle fills with phonemes

an out of body siren’s cry dopplers away

defibrillating which sound of silence to make

blue notes effervesce with plucked heart strings

flat line emptying a thought bubble

the hospital door opens moist eyes over pursed lips

over 90 things start looking grave.

bandages trail parts of me left behind

black holes not a star at forgiveness

horizontal events collapse the home work day

Peter Jastermsky, Morongo Valley, CA
Ray Caligiuri, Beaverton, OR


mire morph
a gauzed toe

a mixture &

J. D. Nelson

J. D. Nelson (b. 1971) experiments with words in his subterranean laboratory. His poetry has appeared in many small press publications, worldwide, since 2002. He is the author of several collections of poetry, including Cinderella City (The Red Ceilings Press, 2012). His poem, “to mask a little bird” was nominated for Best of the Net in 2021. Visit for more information and links to his published work. Nelson lives in Colorado, USA.

Incontinent Renaissance painter

My head is too full. I’m worried that my brain will break again and a kindly doctor will tell me that it’s not as simple as a knee and that consequently it will take a wee bit longer to heal.

Last night a whole poem came in my sleep. It woke me up. I tried to switch it off but it insisted, it really did insist that I write it down. This is it:

Fra Filipo Lippi pee pee
When does Fra Filipo pee pee?
When Filippo’s feeling sleepy
Then Filippo’s has a pee pee
And, if by chance he’s sad and weepy
Guess what? Lippi does a pee pee

You see what I mean. It’s not Keats. This is what goes on in my head.

And now I have to give it a title….

waiting room –
my storm-tossed

Al Peat