Thirteen Myna Birds


"Eating donuts in an alternate universe"




Old Journals


Written for snow, slippery

sidewalks, storefront windows

(the geometric sun in fog)–


memories were what they

were for. Manuals deep

in hidden drawers.


To say they were for perspective–

no, the fear, frozen ground

thawing. What needs forgotten.


~James Croal Jackson~





We want to leap over sadness like acrobats,

but our hearts won’t let us.


Death is measured by how close

or how far we are to that person.

Witnessing that death brings us closer

to seeing our own death.


We can’t avoid grief,

any more than a fruit-bearing tree

can stop producing fruit until it dies.


Each sadness erupts differently.

~Martin Willitts Jr~





I hunker down for a resurrection

from the constant bombardment of memory

in the wilderness of loss, without a compass,

following the same trail, until it occurs to me —


I’ve done this before, it’s not a dream.

~Martin Willitts Jr~



"Alternate universe-the Red Planet"




Regretful Wretch

Hold on Dark Lord - when I brimmed

with your eggs


open legged and wild-eyed

I moved soooo fast then

now I’m slowed to a dumb



old mess

why didn’t you make me

your vampiress      

while I oozed with potent venom and froth

you lifted me up

shared my blood with

your dark angels only to

drop me

as I fell I realized I would break

(thanks…for nothing)

into a thousand pieces

(and I did)

some old hag

swept me into a plastic bag

tried to glue my parts

I came back

all fack-yacked

an awful science project gone awry

I begged

to be put out of my misery

howled for you……

your icy cold fingers poke me

your horsemen scream a laughter

that shatters through my days

I swear I didn’t swear

if I did…………………….

my fingers were crossed

~Donna Dallas~



the carousal

into his mouth & assisting
in letting him gulp,
the snow inebriated
the land. swelled
with drunkenness,
he purged a mass river,
sweeping away the content.

~john compton~

(this poem currently appears in the chapbook, "i saw god cooking children / paint their bones" by john compton, published by Blood Pudding Press and available HERE -




there is no tender-hearted romance,

no tantalizing undressing.
there is just the hard dick
i suck into my mouth
& maneuver my tongue
until he cums. i swallow.
i’m fond of the flavor.
we do not make do with lavish words,
or the eager caressing
that leads to kissing.
an idle thank you & goodbye.
the passion is in the leaving.

~john compton~

(this poem currently appears in the chapbook, "i saw god cooking children / paint their bones" by john compton, published by Blood Pudding Press and available HERE -



the memory of seeing my first uncut penis

i was sucking on my boyfriend’s cock 

when i started thinking about my uncle’s penis,
viewing each other’s when we were teens.
i hurried & finished.
he looked at me slantways. i told him a poem’s
in my head, he understands. i grab my pen
to write this memory:
i thought it was weird
but still a normal penis
once you pulled back the extra flesh.
i was stunned & curious
at how ours appeared different:
his skin stretchy & mine tight,
his shape bulbous & mine straight.
now that i am grown, i play with my boyfriend’s
like it’s my favorite toy i remember as a child.

~john compton~

(this poem currently appears in the chapbook, "i saw god cooking children / paint their bones" by john compton, published by Blood Pudding Press and available HERE -



killing civilians again

bodies lie

are given

as gifts

people who have lost
are supposed to take apologies
with gratitude

& smile

& say thank you

& appreciate
what the murderers
have said

because its okay
it was all a mistake

a misunderstanding

an accident

theyre paid to kill
though sometimes
faces blur together

look like

~john compton~


(this poem currently appears in the chapbook, "i saw god cooking children / paint their bones" by john compton, published by Blood Pudding Press and available HERE -



"King of the Insect People and His Senior Wives"

~MISH and Ariana Stockwell~



the poisoned mouse"

the poisoned mouse

lies rotting in the walls

hidden in the closet

demanding much more

than to taste of our bounty

the poisoned mouse 

loses skin and fur


sightless sockets gaze

unblinking at her executioner

the poisoned mouse

doesn't care about germs

dropping on counters

where we prepare our food

all she wants is revenge

all she leaves behind

her rotting corpse

the stench of moldering meat

we’ll never get clean

~Cat Russell~




Inside Out

sightless eyes view the light 

behind this billowing curtain

as eaters become the eaten

digestive aids digest hosts 

instead hosting a feast for those 

who dine upon what remains

breaking down this diet for 

worms for maggots and flies

the grossest of the grotesque

hatching to become airborne

as the angels in their heaven

or the ones down below

that have only forgotten

how to fly

~Cat Russell~





the flood, of syllables, of mouths forming


of all shapes and size and lies

and delay

a circle, a smile, a sky, an imperfection

“impossible," says the world

the one released by intoxicating


but there’s no such thing as a savior 

a  vertebrae crushed, marked by the teeth

of a beast 

(a sun setting in the east)

of burden

the result of even thinking about the welfare of the doomed among us

flies have holes in the back of their abdomens

dressed in black, solitary armory

they are what they do, right

what they do right is … fly

speak again with aging hands



hanging out of the holes of a long sleeved sweater

your hair hangs too, around something evolved

something bought and soiled

you know, the garden of eggs hatched

eating fruit and vegetables

regardless of what your god desires

~Joe Kidd~

(this poem currently appears in the book, "The Invisible Waterhole" by Joe Kidd, available HERE -




after Servant 

You can be trapped in an opulent house.

Sneak down a sculptural stair, away from 

your spouse who’s too medicated to rouse,

past staff who should be asleep, overcome 

by a secret you can no longer keep.

Pause in the dark before arched double doors.

Brisk fingers brush buttons, familiar beeps 

of memorized digits you yourself stored

then invalid code, two attempts more. Slow 

index finger subsequent times.  You must 

be right.  Retreat is a crime.  Moment you know 

as the alarm blares, you can no longer trust 

these footsteps on the stairs.  You are not free.

You built this house.  One of them stole the key. 

~Kristin Garth~



"Alternate universes / brush against each other / kissing each other / for a nanosecond / causing echoes / throughout the multiverse"





(Ambystoma maculatum)


Under the unspoken, hyacinth sky

incomplete unfolding,

chameleons find their way into being unseen,


short-lived smoke,

a color of stories, a vacuum filling,

a talisman of fortunes always at risk.


Chameleon, I know you/I don’t know you.

You are either/or

and variations between,


the unmentionable weather, the motion

of light slithering over a rock, a tongue

tasting wind as it rants.


Your life is a constant do-over.

Patterns of stripes, bars, spots, blotches,

or dots of Morse code,


a continuous made-up story.

Chameleons, I know nothing about you/

I know everything worth knowing about you.

~Martin Willitts Jr~



Rainbows Burning

Pot of gold melted

this isn’t a story

it’s a prophecy

we called it back then

after Atlantis perished

during the dark ages

when Rome fell

when the Tsar was born

when Hiroshima melted

we were gonna fuck it up

someone predicted it


or was it the Bible?

they didn’t say we would burn

through the ozone

or machete the fins

off all the great whites

to help keep erections


or stab babies sucked out of the womb

this wasn’t written in the stars

but burn the mother fucker down to

the ground

could have been scrolled

in Latin

or some type of hieroglyphics

painted in blood on a cave wall

as all great colonies fail

at some point or another because of

natural disasters or


we spray the

rainbow down

with diesel

light it up into oblivion

the fallout will penetrate

some clean and virgin planet

ruin that one too

 ~Donna Dallas~




I was born from ice and slept in a cradle of clouds, swaddled in time and silence at the edge of the solar system. Then galactic tides shifted, tipping my cradle and suddenly I was sailing on a parabolic trajectory toward its center. 

My self-destructive path remained unobserved until I passed a small blue sphere. Countless eyes analyzed my face and long, streaming hair, bright and aglow, from behind glass lenses. 

The eyes continued to watch as I dissolved into the sun, and the only traces of when I lived reduced to eternally drifting ash.

 ~Heather Santo~


  1. Awesome poetry on this page! I especially like 'Evidence.' Thanks for the inclusion with such talent!

  2. Thank you for being within the flock.

  3. So many great poets. I love what you guys are all about. On a scale of one to ten, Myna is a thirteen! Looking forward to the next issue.

  4. It's an honor to be included. Thank you.

  5. Thank YOU. Feel free to submit again in the future.

  6. I really love this and hope you will continue this series. Thank you for asking. This is exciting!

  7. Thank you Charles. You should also feel free to submit in the future, with any poems you think might fit. You know what the title and the cover derive from, right? Lynchian-ness. :)

  8. Proud to be associated with your beautiful journal. Thank you Juliet for the publication.

  9. Juliet, thank you for including me here. I really enjoy the diversity. In this grouping I particularly enjoyed Erin Renee Wahl's #4 piece, "Adhesive Climax."

  10. These are all great, "Shake Awake the Sandman" in particular.

  11. So lucky to be in this flock with the rest of these amazing poets. You've created the most bada$$ of poetry communities here, Ms. Juliet. Love my fellow poets!

  12. What a wonderful series of poetry! I feel lucky to have been part of this flock! Thanks so much for including me!

  13. Thanks for including me, Juliet.

  14. Replies
    1. Tonya Eberhard will have two poems appearing in the October 2016 issue of the Myna Birds too.

  15. Honored to be among all of these poems! These are fantastic. (This is Jeremy, by the way--all of my credentials for these services are out of date. Fixing that.)

    1. Happy to have you in the Myna Birds flock, Jeremy! Your stories are unique and powerful.

  16. Sweet! It’s great to be in such talented company. Thanks for the inclusion.
    -Joe Dolsen

  17. I love what you did with this February issue. Thank you for including me. I'm in such good company.

    1. Thank you very much for being part of this flock! Your art and poetry is wonderful.

  18. Brava! to you--this month's flock is awesome!--Mish

    1. Thank you very much, Mish - and thank you for your art!

  19. What an incredible flock! Such talent leaves me speechless.

    Excellent choices, Juliet.

  20. Thanks again. Interesting work here.

  21. Thank you, Juliet, for including me in this gorgeous flock!

    1. You're very welcome,Karen - and thank you for your poem!

  22. I am so humbly grateful to be among such fine artists, Juliet! To be a part of your first 2020 flock just astounds me! The poets and artists are superb!!! This just gives me such a happy lift and makes me want to work harder to be as good of a poet and photographer as the company I am in! Thank you!!! Thank you, January artist birds!!!

    1. Thank you so much for being a part of it Sandra!

      And thank you for your wonderful photos and for your extra-special kind words!

  23. I loved your poetry!
    Sonia from

  24. Wow! Such a stunning collection! So many great poems, but I admit I'm especially fond of this:
    >> And I have seen fire from the closed furnace,
    Cruel as life, taunting, more final than death,
    Engulf, morbidly eager, the countless months of vigilance,
    Razing the memories of love and easy comfort,
    Spitting out the cracked bones, your stark raw inexorable loss.

    ~Eryn Tan Zhi Ying~<<

    1. Thank you very much for reading it and sharing what particularly moved you!

  25. "Cousin" just left me breathless. Holy shit, does that connect. And those last lines just echo and echo...fucking Capricorns! Stunning, honest, and powerful work I will not forget.

  26. Thank you Unknown. You just made my morning.
    C. Cropani

  27. Scary...
    yet, our blogOramma is copacetic, baby.

  28. Thank you, Juliet. I am honored to have my work included among that of others written with such individuality and flair.

  29. Being that life can indeed be dark, I do write some this way.
    This collection is art, and I'm thankful and honored to be included!

    --Lizzy Balise