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Bacon and Eggs Here is a YouTube link to Bacon and Egg Blues - Cliff Bernier is reading his poem and playing harmonica: https://youtu.be/MCvhP4QMM-c  Clifford Bernier is active in the Washington, DC poetry and harmonica communities. His most recent poems are part of the book The Write Blend, a collaboration between six DC-area poets celebrating diversity.
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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.
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.
Racionamiento En la fila una mujer grita llegó harina Pienso en panecillos horneados Poco después oigo solo queda arroz pero mi alegría es vana Van a sacar azúcar ¡oh! Milagro esperaré escucho palabras en rebote se acabó la azúcar La cola comienza a deshacerse Persisto algo van a sacar más tarde al final una mano me entrega un pollo salgo de allí con mi tesoro En una librería cercana un amigo se atreve a leerme un poema largo el poeta no sabe por qué me despido lo prosaico de mi huida me hace sentir culpable Hay que vivir en un país con hambre para entender cómo se puede romper la simetría de un poema por un ligero goteo de vísceras y sangre Translated by Yvette Neisser RATIONING In the line a woman shouts there’s flour I think of warm biscuits Soon I hear only rice is left but my happiness is futile They’re bringing sugar Oh! miracle I will wait I hear words ricochet the sugar is gone The line begins to disperse I persist eventually they will bring something finally a hand offers me a chicken I leave with my treasure In a bookstore nearby a friend has the nerve to read me a long poem the poet doesn’t know why I flee such an ordinary goodbye fills me with guilt You must live in a country with hunger to understand how a poem’s symmetry can be broken by the slow drip of guts and blood  María Teresa Ogliastri was born in Venezuela and lives in Caracas. She is the author of five collections of poems: Del diario de la señora Mao (From the Diary of Madame Mao, 2011), Polo Sur (South Pole, 2008. English translation by Settlement House, 2011), Brotes de Alfalfa (Alfalfa Sprouts 2007), Nosotros los inmortales (We, the Immortals, 1997) and Cola de Plata (Silver Tail,1994). Brooklyn Rail first published the English version of the poem by María Teresa Ogliastri:
https://intranslation.brooklynrail.org/spanish/100-refutations-day-69/ I Want Cake Cake is all I want, of ancestral Egyptian spelt, Demeter descended within wispy chaff speared like Roman warriors, god-gifted Cleopatra on the Nile where they can eat cake, wise like winds that swept the plains, swept the seed. And you, my sweet descendent, gift of goddesses’ seed I planted on this earth, seed that sprouted across the plain, golden like fields of spelt, fermented in foreign wind, I wish you all the icing.  Other poems and essays by G. DiNapoli have appeared in literary journals and reviews, as well as Stanford Medical blog, in Europe and the US. She is an Italian American from Washington, DC.
I’m Hungry The words aren’t spoken They’re said through eyes That watch others eat Longing for a carrot Piece of apple Potato chip Alone by choice They sit Gulp water Devour bread Without protein Always craving more To hide envy They fidget in desks Search backpacks While waiting For recess To begin
 Lisa Reynolds is a teacher and an award-winning Canadian poet, published internationally in anthologies, literary journals, and magazines. Translations of her poetry were released in 2022. She is a member of The Ontario Poetry Society, the Writing Community of Durham Region, and an associate member of The League of Canadian Poets. She lives and writes in a small community east of Toronto, Ontario.
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