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Can you, dear readers, give me some suggestions for sending my stuff for consideration in journals, ‘zines…wherever?

I need to try to prove I’m good enough to be published somewheres.

The sky is congested
No remedy, no over-the-counter
The salt of my tears will have to do

Don’t look up, yonder sky
Toward the horizon, aye, flegm of ice and rain do form
The salt of my tears will have to do

The light upon us o’er
We lie beneath the no-shelter tree, dead and sagging tree
As if the salt of my tears could ever make do

We’ve got babies dying
Thwack Thwack thwack

We’ve got babies dying
Mamas too–
Pancreas exploding
Aortas imploding

We’ve got a one-eyed Sally Baby
Where’d her other eye go?
What’s happened to you, Sally Baby?
Thwack Thwack

Our babies are dying!
No natural cause
There’s no death in their sleep at 89
No cancer at 64
No car accident at 70
No natural order
Thwack

Our Babies Dead
In their classrooms
Tombs of the known dead except one
No jaw or foreheads for Bullet Hole in the Face Babies
No heart beats or sounds from the Closet Babies
No blood clots from the Bled Out Babies
A lullaby of bullets dreamt them to terrible sleep
What’s happened to you, Babies?
What’s happened?

SOB with me

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