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Acuff, Gale |
Ahern, Edward |
Allen, R. A. |
Alleyne, Chris |
Andes, Tom |
Arnold, Sandra |
Aronoff, Mikki |
Ayers, Tony |
Baber, Bill |
Baird, Meg |
Baker, J. D. |
Balaz, Joe |
Barker, Adelaide |
Barker, Tom |
Barnett, Brian |
Barry, Tina |
Bartlett, Daniel C. |
Bayly, Karen |
Beckman, Paul |
Bellani, Arnaav |
Berriozabal, Luis Cuauhtemoc |
Beveridge, Robert |
Blakey, James |
Burke, Wayne F. |
Burnwell, Otto |
Campbell, J. J. |
Cancel, Charlie |
Capshaw, Ron |
Carr, Steve |
Carrabis, Joseph |
Centorbi, David Calogero |
Christensen, Jan |
Clifton, Gary |
Cody, Bethany |
Costello, Bruce |
Coverly, Harris |
Crist, Kenneth James |
Cumming, Scott |
Davie, Andrew |
Davis, Michael D. |
Degani, Gay |
De Neve, M. A. |
Dillon, John J. |
Dominguez, Diana |
Dorman, Roy |
Doughty, Brandon |
Doyle, John |
Dunham, T. Fox |
Ebel, Pamela |
Fagan, Brian Peter |
Fillion, Tom |
Fortier, M. L. |
Fowler, Michael |
Garnet, George |
Garrett, Jack |
Graysol, Jacob |
Grech, Amy |
Greenberg, KJ Hannah |
Grey, John |
Hagerty, David |
Hardin, Scott |
Held, Shari |
Hicks, Darryl |
Hivner, Christopher |
Hoerner, Keith |
Hohmann, Kurt |
Holt, M. J. |
Holtzman, Bernice |
Hopson, Kevin |
Hubbs, Damon |
Irwin, Daniel S. |
Jabaut, Mark |
Jermin, Wayne |
Jeschonek, Robert |
Johns. Roger |
Kanner, Mike |
Karl, Frank S. |
Kempe, Lucinda |
Kennedy, Cecilia |
Keshigian, Michael |
Kitcher, William |
Kompany, James |
Koperwas, Tom |
Larsen, Ted R. |
Le Due, Richard |
Leotta, Joan |
Lester, Louella |
Lubaczewski, Paul |
Lucas, Gregory E. |
Luer, Ken |
Lukas, Anthony |
Lyon, Hillary |
Mannone, John C. |
Martinez, Richard |
McConnell, Logan |
McQuiston, Rick |
Middleton, Bradford |
Milam, Chris |
Mladinic, Peter |
Mobili, Juan |
Mullins, Ian |
Myers, Jen |
Nielsen, Ayaz Daryl |
Nielsen, Judith |
Onken, Bernard |
Owen, Deidre J. |
Park, Jon |
Parker, Becky |
Pettus, Robert |
Plath, Rob |
Prusky, Steve |
Radcliffe, Paul |
Reddick, Niles M. |
Reutter, G. Emil |
Robson, Merrilee |
Rollins, Janna |
Rose, Brad |
Rosmus, Cindy |
Ross, Gary Earl |
Rowland, C. A. |
Saier, Monique |
Sarkar, Partha |
Scharhag, Lauren |
Schauber, Karen |
Schildgen, Bob |
Schmitt, Di |
Sesling, Zvi E. |
Short, John |
Slota, Richelle Lee |
Smith, Elena E. |
Snethen, Daniel G. |
Steven, Michael |
Stoler, Cathi |
Stoll, Don |
Surkiewicz, Joe |
Swartz, Justin |
Taylor, J. M. |
Temples. Phillip |
Traverso Jr., Dionisio "Don" |
Turner, Lamont A. |
Tustin, John |
Tyrer, DJ |
Varghese, Davis |
Verlaine, Rp |
Viola, Saira |
Waldman, Dr. Mel |
Weibezahl, Robert |
Weil, Lester L. |
White, Robb |
Wilhide, Zachary |
Williams, E. E. |
Williams, K. A. |
Wilsky, Jim |
Wiseman-Rose, Sophia |
Woods, Jonathan |
Young, Mark |
Zackel, Fred |
Zelvin, Elizabeth |
Zeigler, Martin |
Zimmerman, Thomas |
Zumpe, Lee Clark |
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tables by Meg Baird seat people position bodies station
minds for meals that are too many too often too short too perishable they display the food the drink the dirty dishes the spilled
words they cannot be held responsible
one of these days by Meg Baird he sleeps in a cement box scheming of ways to kill
her in an instant when the time is right how dare she have a life he could snap that neck in an instant she’s just a sparrow eluding his clumsy grasp once she was his pet fragile soft singing for him it’s
unbearable to be without her he’ll kill her in
an instant one of these days
summer trip by
Meg Baird the road
is a bend in the night where headlights show corpses of last year’s thoughts in the passenger’s
seat are bouquets for them that crinkle and bend when
you pull them free from under your companion’s
bum
What’s
in a flower by Meg Baird Is it strange that I arrange My dying cactus in this frame Basket was his name And red
the bulbous flowery head that it contained Yes, him
and Pearl I found them both in a cool plant shop Pearl’s
a girly pink And purple white lines geometrical design Not quite
bloomed Not this time It seemed that Basket’s stem grew
pale I hung him upside down to dry but cactus do not die that way and so I squeezed out all
that mush and left the pulpy frame
to hang beneath his crown His stem wrapped in a piece
of turquoise felt in a beige
clay pot that’s a perfect fit carved in symmetrical hieroglyphics
jury’s
out on a motorcycle by
Meg Baird oil barrel outside lighted and
flaming by a shed on a rock by the sea and
a solitary figure in a chair you must have seen him as
we crested the hill and down you went off the main dirt road down
the steep little incline towards him I’m thinking holy shit you
said nice day I said hi and flipped a hand he
could have reached out and touched me but he sat perfectly still with
arms folded light glinting off his eyes and
watched us as we headed back up the hill slowly story
is he killed someone and you said something like seemed
like a nice guy you knew dizzy on the back was
too blonde to be greasy and I’d have to agree I
think he enjoyed the company he probably heard us coming
my mind by Meg Baird I have built my mind a
temple from the outside world surely
you have heard enough of misery good
things are forged in jewelled rooms soft
marble walls a ruby icon or two emerald-eyed
cat statues to pray to
the non by Meg Baird these are the middle years the non nothing to hang a medal
on that doesn’t hurt for
one reason or another those gone years inside
my non there is a man outside
my sphere inside the man is
his own non we long to be together
skin and bones by
Meg Baird I I feel my body a rack of bones and when I stand I wrinkle dying is upon me now I hear the death bells tinkle welcome welcome come this way faint and in the distance II it’s not that it makes
me happy it’s not that it makes
me sad it’s something I’m
afraid of and yet it makes me glad III when
going around the corners it’s best to hang
on tight surprising how it gets you through the journey into night It hurts a bit not
much not yet the shredding of the sail no going back not free not yet if freedom’s what you want IV it’s ok it’s alright I’m so happy how I feel tonight my energy’s back my back is back my core awoke and ready I feel so much relieved but now it’s off to sleep I go Dear Lord please take my yearning soul from out my living body and walk with me and talk with me so I won’t be alone V suspend
belief we call it faith I’ve
always had my measure tethered here
on earth I
feel my body as flesh and blood lying
limpid on the bed I’d take another turn
tonight but I don’t think
I’m ready how many corners in a curve when it has come full circle there’s
four of course all in a row until they
snap together and then a circle make
those four conjoined they are forevermore
the canvas by Meg Baird (Dedicated to Ann Marie Rhiel) clean white pristine silent then life happens lots of chaos color boom! order comes along and soon we’re bored except for those who still have chaos in their souls
me and the boys by Meg Baird I’m older now I realize this we closed our eyes in corporeal bliss we kissed and kissed and kissed I’m older now I realize this my lips are shriveled breath is dour and there is little desire to close my eyes and try them on for size this makes me laugh my heart is glad for all those kisses I once had this makes me laugh my heart is glad for theirs are much the same!
ode to sleep by
Meg Baird I’m
off to sleep I do it well And
if I die before I wake I’ll
be in heaven sure as hell
description of death by
Meg Baird He’s a busy man He’s not there with you in your pain
and/or torment at the end He
comes once. To take you home. He is not Satan, Lucifer, or evil. He
spends most of his time at “sudden death.” It kind of takes your breath away
to think about it. Have some respect
Peace, baby by
Meg Baird Something
in the way she said Matches and goes together The way she said she saw what Matches
and goes together Quite differently than most
people That made the word “Pyromaniac” Flash through my mind Like a neon sign Cocksucker!
I said to myself Go light your fire somewhere
else And I proceeded to write a poem And stick it on my wall Peace, baby Is
all you’re going to get From me
The Light by Meg Baird There’s a very fine
line Between Love and Hate Between
Loyalty And Expectations Between
Possession And Madness It’s a very fine line And when it’s crossed There are chasms That open and close They
chew you up They spit you out They
leave a bad taste In your mouth There’s a very fine line Between
Loyalty And Expectations We
have a fancy word for it We call it Betrayal Do with it what you will There’s a very fine line Between
Possession And Madness When
there’s nothing left to say And we
all get it anyway There’s
a very fine wavy Dividing line Encased in a circle Black White Love
Hate And a portal in each For the
other to escape When it gets too dark Pray Go to the light It holds an eternal well Of sorrow in its Heavenly White Eye of Black Eye of White A
very fine wavy dividing line Encased in a circle To keep it sublime To keep it from falling
into A very fine flat grey and dead line
Meg Baird
can be found in the ezine archives of Yellow Mama, Twisted Sister, Anemone
Sidecar, Open Heart Forgery, Apollo’s Lyre, and Prachya
Review, as well as the paper publications Fluidity, CV2: Poetry Only, Expressions,
and Fourth Floor Images. She enjoys performing
in cafes, libraries, bars and special events. Poetry, her own and that of others, has saved
her life on more than one occasion. Say no more!
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