‘The Tip Jar Was Snatched at O Cafe. O!’ by Nancy Weber
The tip jar was snatched at O Cafe. O! “Somebody just picked it up,” mused the guy at the register. ...
The tip jar was snatched at O Cafe. O! “Somebody just picked it up,” mused the guy at the register. ...
Fall Haiku New England college towns: Pumpkins, apples, breakfast in a warm café. Swamp-maples afire! Rusty colored barns, silos draped ...
From the Pages of Washington Irving, for my Hudson River Friends Whoever 's made a voyage up the Hudson must ...
French Suites Each keystroke is precise, clear as a verb Untouched by modifiers. Sharps and flats Are reliable as death, ...
Waiting at a Bustop Under an Umbrella By Damian Robin The pro-democracy tear-soaked bud could burst into a petaled ...
Two Months On I walk between the tired trees restless soldiers standing ground pray for just a tiny breeze bringing ...
610 is there to take it down, the Falun Gong, that touches Dao. It's clear to see the dangers of ...
Courage I saw a tiny spider spin a web Within my humble hut between two beams. He tried to throw ...
A tremendously transcendent meditative piece, with scenic motion skillfully presented by the poet as though he were conducting an orchestra.…
Couldn’t help smiling—with glee, now that those innocent juveniles stand to be tried as terrorists.
This follow-up is meant to release the fuller version that vanished when posted.
Finely structured, Martin. Your works, whether they feature description or narration, usually have a coda with recognition of the divine…
A terrific satire, a heart-warming gift on Rosh HaShana! Macron, today’s Petain, and the rest of the sorry gang of…
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