Poem of the Day
Yellow Striped Pajamas
By Shamsher Bahadur Singh
walking silently on his paws, he emerges from the semidarkness and disappears into it.
Poetry: M-O
Ben Jonson
By John McKernan
claimed Spenser
wrote “no language”
Dear Y.
By John McKernan
Dear Y.
What are you doing? Everyone I know is drunk. Everyone Iknow died. Everyone I know told me it would be all right but he had to write his mother-in-law for the go-ahead on a meal ticket. He drives it to school everyday.
He Could Feel the Night
By John McKernan
Begin to arrive
Like the toothpaste of his mother’s hug
On the back of a giant moon
I Abused My Father
By John McKernan
Almost every chance
I could get As a child
I Love the Dictionary Meanings for Kern
By John McKernan
In the OED
“a rough Irish foot soldier”
In the Language of the Lakota
By John McKernan
Omaha
means both “flowing against the current” &
“spring is near”
My Father’s Marble Collection Hundreds
By John McKernan
Every single one gone Even the gray ones
the color of his eyes The black one
carved from coal shade of his hair
Room Service
By John McKernan
The entrance to the Computer Lab opens like the oak
doors to a suite in the Plaza.
Vast threads of CD-ROM talk spiral around the white
The Season
By John McKernan
Oh it’s Christmas time in Omaha Nebraska!
“Almost alive” red lips say through the panes.
His blue eye, his brown eye, his chipped ear.
The Shadow Beneath My Corpse Is Always
By John McKernan
In training He loves pretending he is
A layer of skin Peeled from Death's moonburnt