Two Poems By Sharon Randle


By Sharon Randle

I knew the day would come soon.

At last I have keys to a clean quiet room.

Thank you for all the gifts you’ve given.

I’m grateful to have a safe place to live in.

Enjoying my comfort, grateful for space,

Looking ahead to a much larger place.

Grateful for the money,


Felled by Fact

by Tony Robles

The winding roads
lead to a small
A-framed Baptist

a simple structure
where complex
questions reside

a stain of quandary’s
residue on the pages
of a holy book

the winding roads
unfurl wisps of gauze
colored mist exposing
A blush of hurt

the minister
is a pleasant man
who brings to mind
a ripe pear as i sit and
take in his sermon

feelings don’t
replace facts,



by Tony Robles

I keep going to Peep’s Coffee
The coffee isn’t great
But the place has been
A has-been place where
It still happens and once I killed
A roach there by accident
And the coffee is constant in
Its consistency ranging from
Watery to a semi-syrupy serum
that takes care of what ails you

A tight budget keeps
Me coming and I don’t
Got a plot to piss in but
The coffee is only 75 cents
A cup

On the wall is a
Calendar stained with a
Year that passed away many
A fuckin’ moon ago and the
Coffee keeps coming,



by Maxwell Rios-Klein

When I hop onto the 38 Geary headed downtown again,
For another century of living to work and working to live,
I stutter quietly while we all sit there in silence staring, longing for a friend,
I lie, and pretend, that I’m currently not depending on alcohol just to fend,
Off malicious content circulating through the tabs on my newly installed browser bend,
And I may be over 7 months sober,



by Cesar Love

They were the secret places

You’d go there with friends

Maybe a meadow, a tree,

A basement, a cabin


No one knew where they were

Only you


And your small band of friends

You called them hideouts

You called them forts


Now where are those friends?