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A few poems from the 2002 Anthology..


Kenneth Wanamaker: Las Vegas, NV
Sudden Profusion Of Flags

Like poppies spattered on
that technicolor field where
Judy Garland sleeps in calico
dreaming of home.

A drag queen sequined in a firework display.
Stars spangle her falsies.
Stripes cling to her ass
like transparent tape.

Flags fly out of the five-and-dime
like rooks off a high wire.

Bannered flotillas of Mercedes,
Saturns, Darts, Impalas, Navigators
and Rangers rush the interstate,
an armada on meth.

An old lady gives me a flag. No charge.
She doesn't know I wear my stripes
inside. Bear salutations
to the Pleiades.

Aurora Borealis

Without a sun to guide the pacing of words,
the images darkly felt,
metallic edges, the glassy surface
of particles excited by solar winds,
the broad wash of lavender
sheeting the black sky.

Dawn cranes her neck
on a field of graveled roofs,
milk spills on cool cement,
on the cold white page.

copyright©2002 Kenneth Wanamaker


Dan Adams, San Diego
What is Hip?

Hip is a name -

Kerouac & Cassady
on the road -
Ginsberg howling at the
moon -
Bukowski at last
call.

Hip is a sound -

Bemsha Swing
Rhythm-a-ning
Miles & Chet Baker
west coast cool -
Antonio Carlos Jobim
a stone flower blossoms
at midnight.

Hip is an attitude -

James Dean in white t-shirt
forever young -
Steve McQueen on a
Harley -
Frank, Dean & Sammy
the rat pack -
The way you wear
your hat.

Most of all –

Hip is knowing when
to quit.

copyright©2002 Dan Adams


Kimberly Dark, San Diego
The Opera

I am your dainty pair of opera glasses
Lovely but brassy
Inlaid with mother of pearl
Shaped into petals and bees,
Hearty handle on the glasses like a leafed stem.

And I am your aria, story, costume and set
I am tragedy and triumph
Fluid, flawless movement, light and sound
Nestling in the back of your skull
Where understanding and feeling make meaning.

You are my plush velvet seat
Dress circle leg-room
For high audience art
I sink into you, no weariness
In our well-heeled history of trust and softness

And you are my singing lesson
Opening my throat wider
Teaching my voice roundness and depth
Giving my story tone and pitch
I am the voice of your story,
The lesson pressing me into service
Muscles taut, skin bright, eyes clear

You are my singing lesson
And I exalt you each time the curtain rises

copyright©2002 Kimberly Dark


Jennifer Geran, San Diego
Three Haiku

1. food court haiku

where I mix n match
tacos eggrolls and gyros
with indigestion

2. angels and insects

ants taste like sweet tarts
angels taste like turkey breast
with barbeque sauce

3. for sandra

once upon a time
happily ever after
you know the middle

copyright©2002 Jennifer Geran



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