Wednesday, February 12, 2025

Sunshine Daydream By PW Covington


(LIVE Collaboration with the Grateful Dead tribute band ‘The Deal’)


Songs about those

Golden shore

Troubadours

Return on trumpet bells

Shining seashells

Splendid flying serpents

Miscreants

Galactic streaming

Always missing

Missing


Spirit practice

Trance and cactus

On the Mother Road

All time has taught us

To be here tonight

Mountain sitting

Pickup truck winter

Swinging through San Berdoo

Rewind past to present

Present here, a gift

Dancing


As the walls come down

In Lobotown

Don’t you let

That deal go down

Wise women washed 

In New Mexican grooves

In all right 

Red light tonight

The magic swimming

The magic 

Spinning 


Soundtrack set to 

77

Degrees of integration

Among the alchemists

And warlocks, I write

Those golden shores

As lions roar

Esteemed and dipped in poetry

Returned, for all to be

In turquoise 

Mountain mystery

From the once and final glory

Eclipsing


Poems and little lights alit

Light up and share 

Life’s love and testament

Brilliant, beauty

Beauty

Beauty be


(Written and performed at the Lobo Theater, Abq, NM, Feb 26, 2023)



PW Covington is the NBPF's 2024-2026 New Mexico Beat Poet Laureate.

 Writing in the Beat tradition of the North American Highway, PW Covington has spent decades traveling in support of his writing, and encouraging the creativity of others.

 Covington's latest collection of poetry Vintage Denim is available from Alien Buddha Press.

  PW lives just south of Historic Route 66 in Albuquerque, NM, where he has worked on film and television productions such as Better Call Saul and The Cleaning Lady.



Tuesday, February 11, 2025

Beer Nuts By Bruce Morton


Salty by design. They are

Free, set out on, or at, the bar.

Intended to make you thirsty--

To keep you thirsty, to desire

To have another sip, one more pull.

Their crunch and grit punctuate,

Add substance to the stream

Of sad and bad--stories and jokes.

You cannot help reach and munch

When you lean forward on the rail

To support the weight of your day

And whatever it is you rail about.

Their natural oil lubricates your point.

You point, asking for another refill.







Bruce Morton divides his time between Montana and Arizona. He is the author of two poetry collections: Planet Mort (2024) and Simple Arithmetic & Other Artifices (2014). His poems have appeared in numerous online and print venues. He was formerly dean at the Montana State University library.



Monday, February 10, 2025

Crazy Train By Shannon O’Connor


I found myself on a crazy train –

I was surrounded on all sides by insane people,

one guy having a convo by himself, arguing about the contents

of his bag, scratching his arms and legs,

another asleep

with a blanket spread across four seats,

Two people talking about how much they loved drugs,

All during rush hour


How did I get on this crazy train?


Was it payback from when I used to drive that train?


The time I ran through Park Street Station screaming

for the Taco Bell on the moon, jumping and shrieking

because I believed God spoke to me?


Or the times I would wear a hat inside out,

talking to my imaginary friends,

until I got to my stop, and pretended I was sane?


I looked up Crazy Train

I knew it had to be a thing

It’s a song by Ozzy Osbourne

I was never a fan, not into metal,

but I knew the song,

from deep inside my psyche,

I lived on the Crazy Train


All those people that day,

They surrounded me,

All nuts like I used to be,

I wanted to yell at them to go to the doctor and get their meds,

I know it’s not easy,


But for the Grace of God, I have a job

with health insurance that allows me

medication

I work in Psychiatry –

but if I didn’t, I would be just another passenger

on the Crazy Train,

another lunatic

with no brain,

not anymore, not me,

last stop, get off the Train,

go home, take my pills, go to sleep,

dreaming of mountains and trees,

and a broken-down Orange Line,

call an Uber it’s faster, I’ll be alone,

sane,

instead of on the Crazy Train

surrounded

by people who are the way

I used to be.



Shannon O'Connor has an MFA in Writing and Literature from Bennington College. She has been published in Oddball Magazine, Wordgathering, 365 Tomorrows, and others. She is the chairperson of the Boston Chapter of the National Writers Union. She lives in the Boston area, and writes around working remotely. 

Friday, February 7, 2025

It's When You Stop Looking By Skaja Evens


Taking a long drink of his whiskey and cola

Driving along the winding backroads

I find myself more adventurous with him

A little more reckless


He’s telling stories in between songs, and we laugh

Him at my reactions to his antics and me at his laughter

Anything for levity in light of difficult circumstances

And the heavy weight of mortality


I’ve considered leaving so many times, only to strengthen my 

choice to stay until one of us is gone.

Cognitive dissonance ringing loudly at who I should be, and 

who I really am. Good versus bad. Light versus darkness.

And not seeing the differences between the versions.


We hold hands and I feel a comforting connection. Trying 

hard to burn the memories into my mind.


There are moments I wish I knew how long I had left. Or how

 much time was left with him. I don’t know if I’d dwell on it,

 anxiously trying to live as much life as possible before it’s 

gone. It seems useless to make that wish.

I’m grieving the loss of him while he’s still here, and I know 

I’m not ready for him to be gone. I never thought I’d want 

someone so much while gluing the shards of my heart back 

together. I don’t know why it’s him. Why I want things I 

swore I’d never want again.


The very next minute I’m cursing him, at how infuriated he 

makes me. How he prides himself at being a blunt asshole.


Maybe he didn’t expect me either, and it threw everything 

sideways.





Skaja Evens is a Best of the Net-nominated writer living in SE Virginia. Her work has appeared in Medusa's Kitchen, The Rye Whiskey Review, Synchronized Chaos, Mad Swirl, Spillwords Press, Ink Pantry, Blue Pepper, among others. Her first book, conscientia veritatis, from Whiskey City Press, is available on Amazon.


Thursday, February 6, 2025

Elegy for a Regular By Paul Jones


Once he spoke the indirect speech of men,

as if making bar bets after third drinks

that become sincere, become angry, mean.


Just his half joke. Some more of his high jinx.

But that gave way to dark rage long held in,

told in such a way it seems soft when said.

Yet by night's end, fists flew, someone's nose bled.


We missed him for a week or two. Before

his wife and kids and priest brought him back in.

“This is where his real life had been. More

home than his home. We were more like his kin.”


They moaned, sighing their funeral chorus.

“He loved us, always missed us,” they told us.

They begged the barkeep: "Take his ashes in.

We burned him so he won't take up much room."


There's a box today where his seat had been

across from the shelf of mid-range bourbon--

dark wood, maybe walnut, not mahogany

that would have been too ornate, too fancy.


Carved into the top: "He loved and was loved."

And the crude image of a boxing glove.




Paul Jones’ poems landed on the moon in February 2024.

In 2021, Jones entered the NC State Computer Science Hall of Fame. 

In 2024, Jones’ poem “Geode” was plagiarized multiple times by the notorious offender, John Kucera. 

Jones’ books are Something Wonderful (2021) and Something Necessary (2024). Both from Redhawk Press.

Recent poems in Hudson Review, Salvation South, Southern Poetry Review, New Verse Review, and in Best American Erotic Poems (1800-Present).

http://smalljones.com

Wednesday, February 5, 2025

Coalescence By Rita S. Spalding


you are the button that 

tightens my dark cloak

warms me from the cold

breathes life into my soul


seam in my life that 

pieces together

a home without walls

heart without judgment




Rita S. Spalding has had poems published in numerous anthologies and magazines. Her first book, Abstract Ribbons, was published in 1992. A second book, The Eighth, is currently at a publisher. She has received awards for poetry from Jefferson Community and Technical College, Elizabethtown Community College, National Library of Poetry, Kentucky Monthly Magazine and the Kentucky State Poetry Society. In 2024 she was a presenter at the Kentucky Writers Celebration in Danville and Historic Penn’s General Store, the Last Insomniacathon and she gives poetry readings regionally on a regular basis.





Tuesday, February 4, 2025

Extremism By John Drudge


It’s just another drunk 

At the bar 

Running his mouth too loud 

Spitting on the counter 

Waving his fists at ghosts 

It always starts with conviction 

With a purpose

But pretty soon 

It’s just another 

Wild-eyed rambler   

Screaming at traffic

Looking for a fight 

That doesn’t exist

And wandering in

For a quick drink 

Between rounds

But give it enough time 

And it all burns itself out 

Or burns everything down 

Either way 

The bartender’s seen it before

Another fool 

Too far gone 

To know they’re lost





John is a social worker working in the field of disability management and holds degrees in social work, rehabilitation services, and psychology. He is the author of four books of poetry: “March” (2019), “The Seasons of Us” (2019), New Days (2020), and Fragments (2021). His work has appeared widely in numerous literary journals, magazines, and anthologies internationally. John is also a Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net nominee and lives in Caledon Ontario, Canada with his wife and two children.

Sunshine Daydream By PW Covington

(LIVE Collaboration with the Grateful Dead tribute band ‘The Deal’) Songs about those Golden shore Troubadours Return on trumpet bells Shini...