The Ramingo’s Porch – “Pull The Chain” A Poem By Kushal Poddar

Ramingo Unknown Author's Immage

Pull The Chain

The morning train mails away.
The shit beside the railroad still fresh.

The girl on the facing seat sleeps
in between her legs.
A labor knotted hand lights
the day’s first cigarette guarding it
from the wind framed by the ajar door. Continua a leggere

The Ramingo’s Porch – Two Poems By David Boski

Ramingo Unknown Author's Immage

An Epiphany Lost on Magical Mushrooms

One of her friends didn’t want any
so I decided to eat her share of the
mushrooms without considering the
possible consequences of doubling
down. Continua a leggere

The Ramingo’s Porch – Two Poems By George D Anderson

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The Christmas Family Form Letter

The letter arrives every year
like clockwork-
usually by the 15th of December
in a pink scented envelope
with masses of colourful stamps
& a professionally printed logo
with their names & address
pasted in the top left corner. Continua a leggere

The Ramingo’s Porch – “Very Strange” And Other Poems by DAH

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Very Strange

Today, the light has a sharp edge,
one swing of a sunbeam
and the tower-bells
melt to a bowl of soup.

Flowers are sweating and
the dried grass, like limp scales.
I think the day is crazy, almost
sour and sick. Continua a leggere

The Ramingo’s Porch – “Short History of Bad Relationships” And Other Poems By Leah Mueller

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Short History of Bad Relationships

Caught head lice in Mexico
from my brother or my sister:
I’m not sure which. My mother
suggested pet shampoo, but it
was ineffective. My mother Continua a leggere

The Ramingo’s Porch – “The Unending” a Short Story By Mike Fiorito

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The Unending

            We had recently moved into an apartment only a block away from an elevated train track.  At times, the trains roared loudly, as if surging through our living room.  Sometimes the train’s rattle was subtle, like a gurgling brook.  Sometimes we didn’t hear the train at all.

One night, a few weeks ago, I got home very late from work.  All of the lights were out in the apartment.  On the kitchen table, I saw a cigarette still smoking in an ash tray, though I didn’t see Triny, my wife.  I figured she must have just gone to bed.  I undressed, closed the lights and settled into bed. Continua a leggere

The Ramingo’s Porch – Four Poems By Brian Rihlmann

Ramingo Unknown Author's Immage

THE SILENCE OF OUR FATHERS

none of them ever admitted it
at least not that I remember
the whole village of fathers
and father figures
that raised us to be men
all silent about an animating force
as common as an itchy ballsack Continua a leggere