Author Archives:

Hello all: Derek Kannemeyer, this year’s judge, has chosen Cheryl T. Cooley, as our winner in this year’s 30 for 30 for her poem “Nina Simone’s Three-Room Childhood Clapboard House.” Congratulations Cherryl! Cherryl will received a one-year subscription to Potomac … Continue reading →

Unfortunately, one of our scheduled poets was unable to participate, so to complete the 30 days, I am offering one of my own. Still Life What can the lonely gutter dobut embrace a blue reclining nudequenched like a footpressed buttmirrored … Continue reading →

Nina Simone’s Three-Room Childhood Clapboard House enduring A-frame house: ashen overlap, splinter after splinter, livid brick legs bowing beneath the sagging hips of worn wood, algae crusted steps, a bare porch rocker, the dingy front door – a cuboidal mouth … Continue reading →

I sunk in search of Cézanne, the pickled flower who has cleaned History’s teeth. He cut up a cigarette and dipped it in tea, remembering it wasn’t a cigarette, and held it with eyes as sharp as a table. But … Continue reading →

Blue Skies, Daydreams, Watching Clouds He saw bears and eagles, an alligator, grandpa’s puppy in heaven. One time, a dragon. One time, Kokopelli. Every day, he watched the clouds boil and rearrange themselves. One day, he saw them form you. … Continue reading →

infer rays flash the sphereas it flies a vectorthrough blue-backed airspinning as it goes a prediction autonomicthe opponents racketmakes a tight arc to meet it and yellowfuzz wafts as the balltangents a different curve © Dave Lego 2023-03-02 Dave resides … Continue reading →

Thank God for Spring & Family Shimmering blue pink and yellow pebblesglisten in today’s glorious sunshine underneath the oceanic roaring waterof my brand newly planted by my visiting Beaverton sonfreshly arrived from Amazon WATER PUMPas seen through my newly exposed … Continue reading →

Maples Helicopters litter our porch and our neighbor’s driveway like puzzle pieces scattered on a table, varied sizes, different shades of same hue, impossible to spot how they fit together, how in their seed propeller, they hold the force to … Continue reading →

luxe red roses wrapped in linen—tissue paper-thin; unexpectedlyredolent; tucked between opulentoxblood leather cushionson the orient express andcarelessly forgotten—speak in muted tones ofuntold adventures, unsunglongings, days gone by, and themystery of what might have been … © 2023 Rich Follett – … Continue reading →