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Obsession A morsel of sparrow darts across the window. And because you cannot sleep for the rumbling under your ribs, and because the lemon-drop sun is seeping into the deep dark of the kitchen where you sit with a needle stitches together the sides of your stomach-- you imagine taking the lettuce- green shadows, balling them together, throwing them against the wall. Night swims upstream, while you suck the collar of your shirt, taste fish. An itch, a pinch, a pang for that butter knife that’s only knife now, that fruit bowl that’s only bowl. You lick your parched lips, take your blood-orange head in your hands. It breaks into sections.  Lavina Blossom is a painter and mixed media artist as well as a poet. Her poems have appeared in various journals, including 3Elements Review, Kansas Quarterly, The Literary Review, The Paris Review, The Innisfree Poetry Journal, Poemeleon, Common Ground Review, and Ekphrastic Review. She is an Editor of Poetry for Inlandia: a Literary Journey.
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Solving a Domestic Hunger Crisis The question of coupons has resurfaced with vigor as our resources have steadily dwindled and our exigencies at home have soared with equal rigor Thus it is we who are aspiring to acquire some of those handy slips of paper that pave the way to edible gratuities as if we too were deserving servers  After a forty year absence to pursue an academic career, Charles A. Perrone has returned to the glorious environs of Santa Cruz, California to enjoy retirement between the sands and the redwoods. His critical work, translations and poetry have appeared over the decades in USA, Canada, UK, Spain, Mexico, Brazil and virtual (on-line) domains.
ARE WE GREAT YET? My neighbor’s dog jumped his fence the other day and took off running. Across the city, on the west side, the neighbors are shocked that a string of cars have been broken into: “This just doesn’t happen here!” These winter months bring out the cold in too many hearts. Sends people to the streets in acts of desperation. Sara and Scott were kicked out of the bar for pissing in each other’s drinks. Just like the government. They still haven’t found my neighbor’s dog. He was last seen trying to jump over a higher fence down the road – probably to get inside a warm house for a bite to eat. I don’t know his name, but it doesn’t matter – nothing does, when you’re scared and hungry. The poem first appeared it first appeared in Trajectory.  Cathy Porter’s poetry has appeared in Plainsongs, Homestead Review, California Quarterly, Hubbub, Cottonwood, Comstock Review, and various other journals. She has two chapbooks available from Finishing Line Press: A Life In The Day (2012), and Dust And Angels (2014), as well as two chapbooks published by Dancing Girl Press in Chicago: Exit Songs (2016), and 16 Days (2019). Her latest collection, The Skin Of Uncertainty, is now available from Maverick Duck Press. Cathy is a two-time Pushcart Prize nominee, and serves as a special editor for the journal Fine Lines in Omaha, NE, where she lives with her husband Lenny and their dog Marley, and cats Cody and Mini.
Reactor Phones reach around the world. GPS / vast information streamed. Mass transportation connects. Even a space station orbits. But how? And I ask: How, Did we forget the basics? Hunting / gathering. What happens, When the few, Who do it for us, Are no longer, Able?  Nick Romeo is a multidisciplinary artist, musician and writer. Nick lives in Pittsburgh Pennsylvania with his wife and cat named Megatron. Poet’s Haven press has recently released his first chapbook entitled, “The Insolent Somnambulist.”
Hunger pain Hungry for the rain Hungry for the fall Hunger for all As the drops fill me with hope I breathe a sigh of relief I spot green growth underneath my rumbling stomach disagrees so I imagine the fruits of my labor fruits that will deceive Hungry for the truth Hunger rises up Hunger and its pain Below is the video of Waseeq reading his poem:  Waseeq Mohammad is a Karachi born Houston raised poet. He has self published his first chapbook titled Nature Animalis. If you want to get him talking, just mention superheroes, tea, anime, or video games.
Famine The grocery store gave us seven bananas we didn’t ask for in our curbside pickup bag. Our next door neighbor said he’d take three off our hands for his trip tomorrow to Utah. His wife with dementia gone just a week. The other three are going to our neighbor on the other side, who gave up sugar but not fruit, so God would let her daughter keep the newly adopted baby during the trial period. And we’re keeping one. Banana. The New York Times asks if we have been hungry and the answer is no. But I wish I could find more bananas for all the hungry people, children and their parents. Then I would be doing more than writing about it. About how this pandemic is starving some of us. I would figure out a way to feed the people who are ravenous, give them food trucks, restaurants, unlimited curbside pickups. Because it’s not okay to be famished, to be craving security when there isn’t so much, people dying as usual and more than usual. At least the baby is going to stay where she is. At least one less tragedy to face. Click on the file below to listen to Phyllis reading her poem: 
 Phyllis Klein’s work has appeared in numerous journals and anthologies. She has a new book, The Full Moon Herald from Grayson Books. Living in the San Francisco Bay Area for over 30 years, she sees writing as artistic dialogue between author and readers—an intimate relationship-building process that fosters healing on many levels.
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