rainy night hootenanny

ev’ry moon became a witness
to deeds enacted in darkness
ev’ry tree became a bare cross
o’er graves bloated with stolen breath

ev’ry victim rattled their bones
clawed through clod & stony pendence
ev’ry perpetrator did quake
at the purging wails of black lungs

tears & fears & feeling dread
moons & junes & severed heads
joni mitchell lightly treads
‘twixt chaos & justice fed

ev’ry wednesday became friday
ev’ry weekend one more party
ev’ry hangover a new drill
ev’ry riot a revelry

beers & cheers, tyranny shed
chooms & rooms with wine & bread
& joni mitchell lightly treads
‘twixt it all, her muse must be fed

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2024

last october

i will always love you
mother, who carried me
it’s been a year since you’ve gone
i feel your smile lingering on
& i still don’t know why
you won’t let me lay down & cry

i miss you more now, it’s true
& still don’t know what i’m to do
guess i could pass your kindness on
instead of waiting for death erelong
for as long as i’ve left to live
i guess i’ll learn to let it be

‘don’t go near the frangipani tree’
this is what you would say to me
then i‘d try to be your good boy
won’t you let me cry now please

i never did learn to see you true
never did wonder if you felt rue
a lifetime of days before i was born
like petals fallen in the dawn
it feels like i hardly knew you
now i’m here too late… & waiting

& yet i will always love you
mother, who carried me
i miss you more each passing day
& now i find there’s less to say
with this vast space between us
i hope i was your good boy

‘don’t go near the frangipani tree’
this is what you would say to me
i don’t think your boy can smile any more
won’t somebody let me cry now please

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025

mark 8:36

every last piece of evidence
dissolved as i lay there in silence
the gold rush of my youth had gone
with nothing to show for in my pan
they steeled their bonds with stagecoach power
left me to rot in riverbed dreams
built their nations on monied towers
groundhog foundations all the way downstream

who cares that i’d had better angels
who cares that they were both now gone
who cares that i’d compromised my self
who cares that i’d vainly strove to fit in

& just like that, i saw men raptured
fond memories, their bullions in tow
they were headed for headier climes
as i died face down, the dead of noon
was fortune a living catastrophe
i was simply forced to decay through
a treasure refined for all but me
rippling away, spangles downstream

who cares that i’d needed dnipro
who cares that i’d gambled george town
who cares that the world could only take
who cares that i could now only break

every last bit of evidence
just like that, had raptured away
the gold rush of my youth was gone
my bones left behind to clot in dreams
the world had taken all it wanted
the little that i’d held in my hands
the fulgurate clumps long picked clean
by bream, the rest long washed downstream

who cares that i’d puddled down under
who cares that i’d puddled in ukraine
who cares that i’d struggled for it all
who cares that i’d done finally fall

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025

maggots are gutting america

there’s nothing left to see
in that vale of vile fenestration
there’s nothing left to say
we did you once
we’ll do you twice

only you are to blame
the hearty molestations
of our collective indifference
are the consequence
of your consent

you dare to lift reproachful eyes
against us
you put your fist in the mouth of truth
hoping to silence us forever
but what is truth
apart from what we say

had you have known better
that hope is a curse
a curse of diminished returns
then would you have demanded
we to add a braille of tears
to your perforated skin
no, we’ll stab you again & again
& again with joyful contempt
crying bitch

you looked up to us, fool
as well you should
until our sun & stars finally stole your sight
truly, what are you doing here

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025

GUEST POST // Talking in Code by Whitecatgrove

Lay down, lay down, antlers fallen from
the crown. A king falls, a doe dies, and wise
the mouse who makes his house in the moss!
O the cost of this solitary life —
paid out in blood and mountaintops, the coin
of misunderstandings. The warbler
cannot understand the mockingbird’s
almost-speech. I’m tired. I’m talking in code.
The deer’s wild heart beats its mighty last.
This too shall pass. The vultures crack the bones.

by WHITECATGROVE
© All rights reserved 2025