Two Poems by K.R. Copeland

Those Edible Arthropods

A carapace of ant does not dissolve
within one's mouth,
rather crunches, then gets stuck
between the teeth.
Whereas beetle grub consumption
is a gulp of utmost ease,
(especially when cooked and covered
in a powdered cheese.)
Shrimp, they say's the seas attempt
at making spider meat,
feet of bees appease the insect lovers lips.
Field crickets on their way down, tickle
tonsils, tongues and tease
as do the lacewings, katydids and thrips.
 

Celebratory Song of the Entomologist Divorcée

I'm happy as a millipede
in leaf litter

positivity in every brief pitter -
 

patter of my feet upon
relief, skitter

merrily along, for I am free !

K.R. Copeland is a fiery versifier from the mid-west.  Her work, which ranges from formal to experimental, heady to absurd, has been featured in many fine publications, such as, Glass Tesseract, Niederngasse, Snow Monkey, Moxie, The American Muse, and Unlikely Stories. K.R. is also the judge for the Beginnings Magazine poetry competitions 2002.

One Poem by Alex Stolis

Lovelines

I’m a Sagittarius and enjoy the simple things in life like flowers, bonfires,
Chinese art. I’m 5’3”, 110 lbs, long straight blonde hair. I like to read 
and listen to music. If you are at all interested send me a message and 
I’ll get back. Box 86345

2AM and the crush of water
running in the bathtub next door
sounds like a Chinese fortune, 

black with gold trim,
silk feet bound
in crisscross moons;

I sit here, 
think of cutting my teeth on the soft tissue 
that resembles a bird’s feather 
on your thigh,
parallel 
to the curve of your hip.

Instead, I cut my teeth 
on the round skin of an apple,
picture Madam Butterfly 

covered to her neck, 
petals and stems floating
around her breasts.

Alex Stolis lives and works in Minneapolis, Minnesota. He has had 120 poems 
published both on-line and in print. Recent publications include Ilya’s Honey, 
Stirring, Nerve Cowboy, Thin Coyote,  Poetry Motel and Chiron Review. 
He claims he is not a poet.

Two Poems by Fred Longworth

Lodiscation

"I'm leaving you!" she yelled,
and stormed out of the bedroom.
She slammed the door so hard
back in order.
that ten words of this poem
tumbled down a line.
But not to worry -- I've got my life
 
 

The Healing

Back from Lourdes, she tells me that she’s cured.
Still, I see the symbiont biding its time,
lurking in the crevices of hope.

Still, she must catch her breath each time she stands,
still flinches when touched below the ribs,
still reconfigures her bed with pillows and rolled-up blankets,
searching for a dwindled ease, an obstinate sleep;
still fills the bin by the toilet with maxi-pads.

She insists that soon she’ll be back at yoga;
soon another showing at the gallery;
soon that hike to Penesquitos Falls;
soon the planting of an organic garden;
soon another children’s cooking class.

Like the stone which holds our back door firm
against the chattering wind, she’ll speak in passive voices,
anchoring the verbs of others.  Soon and still.

Fred Longworth co-hosts the open-mic poetry reading at Twiggs Coffee & Tea in San Diego. 
His poems have recently been published in print in California Quarterly, Limestone Circle, 
and Pearl, and on line at Slant and Words on a Wire.  “Variations on Touch” will be in the 
upcoming print issue of miller’s pond.