The Alien Buddha Contracts Covid-19 Act 7: Alive in May





Hive by John Drudge


Sweet gold


And spread over


Wellsprings of life

The buzz of activity

Across time


Stuck together

In a single hive

The nature

Of shared existence

Sweet sustenance

And the sting

Of being





A Sign by Cord Moreski


Cord Moreski is a poet from New Jersey. His work has been proudly featured in As It Ought To Be Magazine, Eunoia Review, The Pangolin Review, Philosophical Idiot, The Rye Whiskey Review, The Silver Birch Press, and several other publications. He is the author of the chapbook Shaking Hands with Time (Indigent Press, 2018) and is currently working on a new project for 2020. You can follow Cord here:


A Sign

Leaning against

a warped wooden fence

on the side of my apartment
I take in fresh air

for the second time

in almost two weeks
as a radio

blares above me

from a neighbor’s window
about another

hundred cases confirmed

in the Garden State
another surge of hate crimes

and unemployment

across the nation
another opinion

disguised as a fact

another day
where the news

doesn’t sound

so new anymore.
I turn my head

and look around

for a sign
but there is no dove

preaching hope

on the power line
no sunshine


from the traffic of clouds
no wildflower

growing out

of the broken sidewalk.

except for the sounds

of another breaking bulletin
and a crushed beer can

left wedged at the end of this fence

shaking with the wind
rattling like my heart.






2 Skeletons by Mike Knowles



Mike spent 40 years working mainly in comics, along with TV, Radio, animation and gonzo-style journalism for a “top-of-the-shelf” magazine, along with odd spells as a digital artist. Finally, there were the three gruesome years writing gags for comedians (even though they begged him not to. But what did THEY know about humour), in which he was cruelly subjected to the thick fug of cigarette smoke that permeated the working men’s clubs.








Infectious Poetry by Wanda Morrow Clevenger



Wanda Morrow Clevenger is a former Carlinville, IL, resident.  Over 600 pieces of her work appear in 180 print and electronic publications–including 3 published chapbooks. This Same Small Town in Each of Us (2011 Edgar & Lenore’s Publishing), and two of a five-volume set where the hogs ate the cabbage – young and unadorned, no dyeing in machines (2018 – 2019 Writing Knights Press).  She is currently serving as editor for U-Rights Magazine.


diabetic social groups

for six years I eavesdropped
on willful woe-is-me
before bailing on
the social groups

what support was to be had
when we were all facing
down the same sugar-
coated death
macabre poetry

I can see the macabre draw
of the chalk outline
the white-boned
toothy grin

wooing gristle
in its morbid glory
makes good poetry

an idée fixe
to solve a cold case
before the rigor

a pet hamster
still wriggling
in the mousetrap





Are You Ready for A Brand-New Beat?

By Mark James Andrew



Mark James Andrews continues to live and write on the borderline of Detroit most of the time. His latest collection of poems is Motor City is Burning & Other Rock & Roll Poems from Gimmick Press. His poetry has recently appeared or forthcoming in Trailer Park Quarterly, Chiron Review and the anthology RESPECT: The Poetry of Detroit Music.


Early days of the sick rose of death
red buds just popping on the shoot
and the green parade is shot down

piping, drumming and clogging
locked in step and locked down
are you ready for a brand-new beat?

maybe to jig on to the other side
of summer rat-a tat-tat
I say no, no, no.

I present my offering to the last saints
another shot of Tullamore Dew
for every guy, every girl

washed raw cracked hands raising up
up and away to call the pink slipped
waitresses conferring, sharing notes

on where to sell plasma tomorrow
as Dropkick Murphys blare now
through the countdown of last day

for this joint is going dark for a long time
and the bartender is spraying
up and down the boards.

I wonder Why bother? as the gang
are intentionally shaking hands
and a guy tells me being young

I really don’t have much savings.
I have a second job
as a pizza delivery driver

at Hungry Howie’s business slow
there too but my kid’s covered
on Obama Care by my wife.

She’s a hairdresser and her job
requires person-to-person
contact but wait

the owner is pouring corned
beef-infused Jameson.
What on the House?

Let’s have some fun today.
Tomorrow everybody
is going to pack it in.

It’s the last hurrah
and I’m a drinker
and we’re all just people

breaking on through
to the other side of closing time.
Are you ready for a brand-new beat?






Inner rat maze by Carrie Magness Radna



my Bluetooth headphones

blasted & lambasted my ear holes

as I threw away my daily trash—


flip flopped, slightly tipsy

from tequila as I shrunk

little by little, as I followed

the path to the garbage room,

nimbly gesturing like a common

NYC rat, who was skipping out

from the subway for a while.


My 9th floor now looks like a maze;

the favorite cheese is now hidden from view,

the blues have settled

deep into my bones—


the other rats are safe

from sickness

inside their homes.



my headphones announce gleefully;

I chirp back: “Yes!”

as I enter my haven,

still safe from any known infection—







Pandemic Poems by Christian Garduno


Christian Garduno studied History at the University of California, Berkeley, where he edited a poetry collection (Evolver) and a solo work (Face). His writing can be read in over 30 literary magazines, including Riza Press, where his poem, “The Return”, was a Finalist in their 2019 Multimedia Poetry and Art Contest. Christian Garduno’s current work is a chapbook entitled “Love Above the Armstrong Limit”.






scourge of disease

dirty bombs

the force of the explosion and radioactive contamination

will be localized

As with all radiation, you want to try to limit your exposure.

think about shielding, time, and distance

populations decimated

future generations already struggling crippled

civilization falling sick

pestilential infection

the ever-enlarging human population

times of wrath

rapid international transportation

dead birds in the street, mangled from Asia

disease resistance to medication

new strains of old plagues have also occurred

insect resistance to insecticide

Major, outstanding, and unusual

epidemiological & pathological

the identification, mode of transmission, and symptoms



The New Black Plague Deal


lol it’s prolly nothing

you just got to cough it out

have some bourbon

watch the Kentucky Derby


I remember the before

there used to baseball games

and big get-togethers

now we just use the stadium to defecate in


Wi-fi’s not a lie, we really used to have it

ah, but that was so long ago

you get accustomed to the taste of field grass

some even order it thru Amazon


Idk, it ran on satellites, I think

well, no, you couldn’t see the wi-fi

it was invisible,

like we were connected somehow


They had these things called memes and lol they were so funny like there was this one cat at the dinner table and he was all giving snarky remarks like no, I don’t have Covid-19, I have a case of Corona beer!! LOL get it? Oh, um, ok well, Corona was like this light beer company and the cat had a case but see, harhar, his face tho, that’s what made it so funny, idk, I guess you just had to be there, his face was all….yeah…sad part is that the cat ended up getting CV19 and died, but see his sacrifice? That was the spirit of the meems

Can you believe Mirymar outlawed exhaling

some say they’ve gone too far

but I’m not so sure

I’m not so sure I disagree


A little CV19 never hurt no one

back in my day, it was known to put hair on your chest

why, I know folks that used to eat bowls of CV for breakfast

now those were men


You gotta toughen up a bit

my uncle self-isolated for over 147 years

that’s no lie

y’all cry over everything





Corona Poems by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal



Luis writes his poems from California. He works in the mental health field in Los Angeles. His poetry has appeared

in The Journal of Heroin Love Songs, Mad Swirl, Red Fez Publications, Unlikely Stories, and Yellow Mama Magazine

This steady rain,
does it clean or
spread the virus?

These are thoughts I
would not have had
so long ago.

Does the wind bring
it to my face,
into my eyes?

has found a place
to nest its fears.

I do not want
to go out or
eat anything.

Is the food safe?
What can I drink
that’s not poisoned?

I see the fear
in the cashier’s eyes
when I go up
to pay for food
at the market.
Some are friendly
and some are less
so. I get it.
We are all in
this together
and we all need
to stay apart.

Start the process
to isolate.
Finally, there
is something I
excel at. You
could say I am
excellent when
it comes to
I withdraw to
myself and I
keep away from
everyone. I
do this all of
the time. It is
as if I am



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s