by “Wired Clues” Abe

Up the concrete street,
dry, tan, fallen leaves proceed,
driven by the wind.

“Wired Clues” Abe is a poet of Japanese forms in English. The cartoonish character he frequently relates to is Danbo.


The Cyclops
          by Acwiles Berude

His round eye opens to the realms that overwhelm his mind,
accustomed to the dark in which he finds himself purblind.
He walks alone, along the moon-lit path, a single eye,
unable to see much beyond the sunlight in the sky.
It is as if he is within a cave of shadows dim.
He hardly sees a thing at all. Keen sight has gone from him.
This odyssey that he is on has brought him to this cave,
where shadows dance about the flames that flicker and invade.
Broad-shouldered, seeking utter goodness and reality;
the truth is he is thankful for the little he can see.

Acwiles Berude is a poet following in the steps of Homer.


The Stone Bridge
          by Uwe Carl Diebes

In Rgensburg, the gray Stone Bridge, that crosses blue Danube,
completed in 1146, when it was new;
then opened major international trade routes between
the north of Europe and the south, therein establishing
a golden age of commerce in that German urban site
a center for gold-work and fabrics, cultural delights,
Bavarian, riparian, it arches o’er the flood,
the waters flowing, onward going, over rock and mud,
the bridge leads to the tower gate, whereon is placed a clock,
attached salt store, a once important product still in stock.

Uwe Carl Diebes is a poet of Germany. Regensburg is a city of around 150,000.


On Beethoven’s Symphony #2, Movement 4
          by Ewald E. Eisbruc

Moving…to the end of the symphony,
coming to the end of the classic stile,
Beethoven, displaying his infamy,
enters the field briskly with passing smile,
striking, and at the same time, comical.
What a relief when one comes to the winds!
and the strings! rich and economical,
then the bouncing gastronomical grinds!
the birth of the Romantic Age, and all
that comes with it, power, sweep, scope, and strength,
personal expression, free, natural,
within the storm of new breadth, width, and length,
a new enormity blowing aside
th’ old ability to bade and abide.

Eweald E. Eisbruc is a poet of German music. German composer Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827) was the noted German composer who sat at the transition of Classical to Romantic music. At the end of his life he was unable to hear his remarkable compositions.


On Jakob Steiner
          by Euc;idrew Base

The farmer’s boy who could not read nor write
until he had turned fourteen years of age
(At eighteen he’d become an acolyte
of Heinrich Pestalozzi.) turned a page,
when his extr’ordinary powers in
geometry revealed themselves. He went
from Switzerland to Heidelberg, and then
off to Berlin, as tutor and student.
Next he discovered these, duality,
the geometric forms, curves, surfaces,
inversions, inellipses, chains and trees,
and questioned algebra’s true purposes.
The greatest pure geometer was he
since Appolonius of Perga was.


The Keller Conjecture
          by Euclidrew Base
          “Hurrah, hooray, o, frabjous day!”
              —Earl W. Sidecube

Computer scientists have solved Kelle’r conjecture
by careful, satisfiability restructuring.
John Mackey, Marijn Heule and computer have resolved
the last remaining puzzle piece. So has it all evolved.
They’ve shown in any tiling of Euclidean space that
Identically-shaped hypercubes will share a “side”, fit pat/
It had been shown—at least to six dimensions—to be true;
and recently as well, that is, last year, the seventh too.
And now this year, in 2020, six dimension falls,
the proof, computerized and verified, no longer stalls.

Euclidrew Base is a poet of mathematics and mathematicians. Jakob Steiner (1796-1863) was a German mathematician; Apollonius of Perga (c. 240 BC – c. 190 BC) was a noted Greek mathematician. Ott-Heinrich Keller (1906-1990) was a 20th century German mathematician.


Like Don Quixote de la Mancha
          by Raúl de Cwesibe

Like Don Quixote de la Mancha marching through ol’ Spain,
he undertook adventures over platitude and plain,
with pen, computer, car and clothes, he faced the Universe,
the open road that closed upon him as it was traversed.
Like Don Quixote fighting unapologetic’lly,
he faced the turning windmills, ah, the new technology
with heart and mind he fought political ecology,
a slipshod science shunning perfect objectivity.
Like Don Quixote de la Mancha marching to the drum
of free speech and free thought, a World free from threat’s thralldom.

Raúl de Cwesibe is a poet of Spain.


Tottering at the Edge
          by R. Lee Ubicwedas
          “So great a man he seems to me, that thinking of him
          Is like thinking of an empire falling.”
              —William Makepeace Thackeray, on Jonathan Swift

He stood beneath the hung light bulb. He didn’t feel that good.
He leaned upon a chest of drawers mad out of dark wood.
He lifted up his left leg; an idea came to him:
perhaps he would feel better if he stretched it out—his limb.
If only some strong stud could steady him where he was at;
alas, he stood there so alone; no one could hold him pat.
He felt that he was losing balance, in great agony.
He tried to hold on with his hands and arms. Out stretched his knee.
His body tensed; he clenched his teeth; his forehead furrowed frown;
he made one last and passing gasp, o, love, as he fell down.

R. Lee Ubicwedas is a poet of wherever.


          by Cesal Dwe Uribe

O, I remember once it was a lovely place to go—
Tijuana was a sunny gem in northern Mexico.
I still recall a little chair Grandmother Frieda bought,
a childhood treasure I once owned I had not known or sought.
And tales I heard about Tijuana titillated me.
I was intrigued about the place I never went to see.
But somewhere on, along the way, that dreamy place withdrew
from lively canvasses of gold beneath high skies of blue.
Now it is known for human trafficking and poverty,
for crystal math and other drugs, and constant murdering.

Cesal Dwe Uribe is a poet of Mexico. Tijuana was recently ranked the most dangerous city in the World.


The Gate of Social Justice
          by Brice U. Lawseed

He has come to the Gate of Social Justice. It is bright.
Though great, gray shadows at its edges lie, it’s filled with light.
He is so old and weak and tired, he lies down a bit.
He wonders if he ever will be able t’ enter it.
Though it has taken him so long to reach this portal dear,
He fears he is no nearer to approaching justice here.
But he has come so far. He can’t go back. There is no way.
When night appears, he realizes there will be no day.
A fellow shadow offers him a crust. He does not scoff.
He takes a bite—it crunches—then he starts to cough. Cough cough.

Brice U. Lawseed is a poet of law.


The Eagle
          by Usa W. Celebride

The eagle clasps the crag with crooked claws.
high up above the rocky, mountain walls .
The distant sun shines down upon its pause.

Below it sees the wrinkled sea’s wet graves.
It drops, it dives onto the choppy waves,
and grasps at that which can sustain, that saves.


The Dragonfly
          by Bud “Weasel” Rice

In the warm evening air, the dragonfly,
of the sub-order Anisoptera
and the order Odonata, passes by
and, quicker than a helicopter can,
lands on the grass. Four diaphanous wings pause,
all at right angles to its abdomen—
black onyx tricked with lapis lazuli—
extending, glittering like sunlit gauze,
the specimen of a lab technician
upon the green neatly placed, as you lie.
And then as rapidly, it zips away
in a straight line, and bounding over tree
and roof, it parts the air of this hot day,
and darts into a line of poetry.

Bud “Weasel” Rice is a poet of the natural world.