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Feb 25 2021

Caring for my Husband During the Pandemic Written Dec 31, 2020 Image by Emily Jay (emily-jay.com) Unless you lived with him, you'd not know  anything were wrong.  He forgets what day it is,  then what he planned to cook. In the middle  of the pandemic he can't go out, so he never has to panic, search for where he parked the car.  My job is to protect him. He's 76 years old  and has diabetes. I'm watching over him, won't let him take any risks. I double check  the shopping list, won't let him go to the market and pick among the beef ribs, which is his delight.  I, who've only done … [Read more...]

Written by Alan Squire Publishing · Categorized: Bulletin Poetry

Feb 25 2021

SELECTED WAR STORIES Written Aug, 2020 Another war starts. Living men fold open the dirt.   *   1st war put feet on the map, saying, Here are tickets to the rockets.   Most common word was millions. Example: millions of poets.    2nd war flashed its rictus. Done with horses. Ironed unhealed fields.   War barked. We came. Piano and flag every room.    Shocked naked. Someone must kill these already-dead.    *   Then little wars: smoked mountains, blind jungle, tiny skirmish.   Busy snakes in secret photos - postcards of … [Read more...]

Written by Alan Squire Publishing · Categorized: Bulletin Poetry

Feb 25 2021

Inventing a Vaccine Written Dec, 2020 Painting by Grace Cavalieri I toss towels into the washing machine / once each week as if the world / will suffer without the certainty / of my routine / world suffering until a vaccine is invented / inventors make progress / each day one step further / my dryer knows only the routine / of sheets tumbling once each week / world trembling as it awaits / an end to staying at home / scientists work in laboratories searching / for answers to the mystery / of a novel virus unknown / to the world a year ago / I know only repetition / staying home / … [Read more...]

Written by Alan Squire Publishing · Categorized: Bulletin Poetry

Feb 25 2021

Speaking with Strangers While Shopping Written Sept, 2020 They still don't have paper towels here. Even Costco was rationing them, two to a customer.   I just want my assorted olives, healthy you know. I haven't been able to find half the things on my list.   There're fires on the west coast. I expect I won't find the greens I usually buy.   Wonder how long we'll get oranges from Florida. The floods from the hurricanes have been horrible.   The best time to go shopping is in the morning when you can still get ahead of the crowds.   Have you looked at the … [Read more...]

Written by Alan Squire Publishing · Categorized: Bulletin Poetry

Feb 25 2021

Got what I wanted Image by Emily Jay (emily-jay.com) I didn't want to go anywhere / now look at me / I was so sick of those coders who never got to be frat boys living out their lost bromances over the office ping-pong table and kegerator / Open office floor plans are the devil / I hated having to tell them to stop saying stupid shit to the female developers / like to the one black girl, how many times can I say don't say anything about your co-workers' hair, ever  / HR is not your friend / I didn't want to be any of their friends / now look at me / I should measure these … [Read more...]

Written by Alan Squire Publishing · Categorized: Bulletin Poetry

Feb 25 2021

Great Mother Poverty Written Jan 10, 2021 Image by Jonah Giuliano The people start at the house and madly run to the water; Lonely One Chases us all, Before time expires when we are Instantaneously rewound To our starting positions - Whoever she caught now chases with her, And some run again. Poverty, child at the hip, heterochromatic eyes flashing blue and gray, Arguing stridently in the muddied lean-to, An institution never known to me, but Situated properly in the mulched ground beyond the grass Of the backyard of my childhood home - Arguing stridently "What? No, you can't," … [Read more...]

Written by Alan Squire Publishing · Categorized: Bulletin Poetry

Feb 25 2021

3 Poems: Kanga, Poem Donkeys, and Cartography by Elijah Giuliano Photos by Jonah Giuliano Your eyes are stamped with the sidereal insignia of a kanga, my sweet celestial bureaucrat. You breathe beneath the scabs of scarlet stars, like a sprung diver's reflection, suspended, scraping clean the sand-footed surface. When autumn has burned its toast, poem donkeys will cart away firegolden fish, galloping joyously back to Gary. Hastily, they deposit their music in towers of sheer glass in which the leaves rise like mercury in thermometers. Their hearts shine the dragon of a diner by … [Read more...]

Written by Alan Squire Publishing · Categorized: Bulletin Poetry

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