December 7-13, 2020: Poetry from Duane L. Herrmann and Ed Meek

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Duane L Herrmann

Duane L. Herrmann, a reluctant carbon-based life-form, was surprised to find himself in 1951 on a farm in Kansas.  How did that happen??? He’s still trying to make sense of it but has grown fond of grass waving in the wind, trees and the enchantment of moonlight. He aspires to be a hermit, but would miss his children, grandchildren and a few friends. His work has been published in many real places and online, even some of both in languages he can’t read (English is difficult enough!). He is known to carry baby kittens in his mouth, pet snakes, and converse with owls, but is careful not to anger them! All this, despite a traumatic, abusive childhood (first suicidal at age two) embellished with dyslexia, ADHD (both unknown at the time), cyclothymia, and now, PTSD. He’s still learning to breathe and perform human at the same time. See his books on Amazon here.

The following work is Copyright © 2020, and owned by Duane L. Herrmann and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

Pizza Faced

Face down dead in a pizza
as the horse stained coloring book
flipped pages in the wind.
The day was ruined,
but not over.
Ticket,
for luxury sex tour in hand,
Jassim ponders
chemical pink smoke
over Oskaloosa air.
The world may not be ready
for chicken supermodels
or
a once-invisible young cat
whose perfectly mended broken heart,
said the court jester secret agent,
show how little they have changed
if at all.

Ed Meek

Ed Meek writes poetry, fiction, articles and book reviews. His fourth book of poems, High Tide, has just come out. Luck, short stories, came out in 2017. He has had poems in The Sun, The Paris Review, Plume.

The following work is Copyright © 2020, and owned by Ed Meek and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

This Rough Beast

Raised on ranches and wrought from slaughterhouses,
Grown on farms and packed in meat packing plants,
Drilled in oil wells and fracked from rock,
Carried by long-haul truckers and stocked on supermarket shelves,
From blue lives matter to all lives matter,
From Evangelicals to Catholics to Zionists,
From housewives to Harley’s,
From true believers to Q-anon,
The kingdom of real Americans
Rises like a sphinx out of the dust of the past,
Turning fear into rage to fight again the many wars lost,
From the Civil War, to Vietnam, to Iraq and Afghanistan,
From the Senate to the Supreme Court to the White House,
America, first, last, and always.