Open Mic each Sunday night at Borders on Hulen. Bring your poetry and read with us. For All Send poems in body of e mail, no attachments. On subject line, write issue number and theme. Include permission to publish.
Poets retain all rights.
Familiar shapes painted Silver, gold, red and green, At first you do not see The barbs waiting. Among the handmade Fluffy toys, needlework And enamel souvenir earrings. When the crow squawks on a distant mountain I am stumbling in a dark room When a rabbit scurries into its hidden hole I am groping for a poem. He wanted to be a hard man in a soft world. He wanted to feel real pleasure again.