Scribbles on a Broken Keyboard

viewing reality

through a light caramel

tinted glass,

figures become

blended into the atmosphere

like tiny colorful

blotched smudges

within a painting.


the words so gentle and still in precision– being plucked from the bag of



how they thoughtfully and ever so graciously dilute the route of syntax, sprinkling

the leaves in fields with poppy seeds.


the third caramel elixir

goes down as I look through

its emptiness and see her naked

body standing beside me.


she opens the window and carefully

brings a flame towards her mouth,

making sure she leaves

patterns in the wind

as tiny dancers lunge

from her parted lips.


E. Eliot, USA

Meditation On Anything Other Than Him

Not that salvation materializes from

talk only. Also,

escape can not live in a

lotus position; five sun salutations

later everything is louder

I can’t seem to learn enough French

restyle my kitchen flippantly

tear down those memories until all the

faces are shattered

Our cacophony loops still–

the overlapping shouting and silence

the footsteps heavy

that door, resounding.


Joy Donnell, USA


smiling daughters scheme a shadowed

tryst, a trio for two; beautiful


pirates hoisted away in panting

disposition, their pinned legs


offend a dubious mope, who

pleasantly mocks fatigue, while


drinking in their offense, he,

knowing all too well of trembled


whispers, looks on to the

kitchen, as they sneak but tarry on.


Ras Dia, USA