Feeding Time

In Poetry on June 4, 2020 at 7:26 pm

Sly Fox stays
Hidden in Shadow
His eyes peer out through
Night’s veil
The only sound,
Wise Owl hooting
softly from his perch

Sly Fox makes no noise as
he slinks through Night
A flash of bright catches his eye and
he is paralyzed.
White Rabbit moves timid,
Nervous to be out,
Drawing foes to his

It is a quick dance
Not a sound as
Sly Fox makes red of White Rabbit
His fierce eyes look up at you,
Notice you watching

You think he is
tricky in the way he moves but
He is only eager
to survive


J. Bodwell, USA

oceanic snow

In Poetry on April 2, 2018 at 10:00 am

you could let me drift.

oh, please
let me drift
among the jellies and eels
of the unknown deeps.

i might grow gills
i might grow fins and start
my own chain of bioluminescence,
frail whites, soft reds
and all of that.

floating and breathing
among the oceanic snow
those dead bodies
floating to rest
in ground we’ve never seen.

you could let me drift,
like buoys
pointing nowhere out
to discerning eyes.

or like a body
cast off in the night,
to float, eventual collapse,
and then,
the slow fuzzy snow
of the ocean
on down down down
into the muck.

you could let me drift, drift.


J. Endress, USA

unnamed colors

In Poetry on March 31, 2018 at 11:00 am



behind the bar, or

walking down the street
towards the place

we are meeting


and i walk past
that point of reference
towards you
and your jangled
curls, your machine-gunned, raven gazes
shooting off
in every damn direction possible-

just to have
your eyes, stop, hold
and cut
like an acetylene torch.

just to have
a few extra stupid sentences

with you,


cite any example
of us out in the world, alive
together, every time;

i try and rewire my senses
to see, to believe
the nebulae
of energy around you,
the topography of your words
and the colors of your scent.

i wish you meant it
the way i wish you meant it
when you say how excited
you are

about our future.

there is some charm made
of pure warmth, some color
i can’t pin down, just as you exist


in transit, a doppler effect
of pure emotion-


swatches of feeling
shooting off your slender heels
like cherry-ended cigarette butts,

there is some charm, a perseverance
of heat

i know i am
slated to bear

in the absence
of your lithe form
across a threshold, and

it is in the cold moments
i wait and search and wait and



all of the colors i can think of.


-for Abbie

J. Endress, USA