By Dave Onofrychuk At dinner, my son goes, “What’s a yo-yo’s favorite snack?” “Dunno,” I say. “A yo-yogurt,” he says. “Get it?” “Good one.” He smiles. Six years old and he’s crushing it, the humor thing. “What’s Pokeman Go’s favorite snack?” I ask him. “Go-Gurt,” I say. He chews his chicken in contemplation, frowning. “That joke is dumb, Dad,” he says.

By Rosanne Pagano “Tell the one about Uncle Benny’s toe!” “Or the time he shot BB’s through the bathroom ceiling. Tell that!” “The chicken and Uncle Benny’s cigarette is funnier. Let’s hear it again.” Benny is my long-deceased father, endurer of these and other minor scrapes in a brief but mirthful life.  Told and re-told by cousins who may or may not have borne witness, my dear father’s life has become lore, venerated by laughter in kitchens every Saturday night.  Look at us, this next generation of jesters, sipping our espresso with Sambuca, raising china plates for another slice of cake. 

By Steve Rubinstein You find yourself standing at field’s edge looking back over summer as though it were a season not a lifetime carried out in one riotous leap of faith. From hope to flowering fruit from seed back to soil; two false leaves emerge upward, outward, inward downward and home again. You find yourself standing lose yourself walking rows between rows in rain running down raised beds pooling for a day then gone. So, this is how you grow raising yourself up aching knees in muddy loess toward intangible sky without night without end.

By Stanislav Moiseev The sooner you realize That you have only one life The sooner you will start to live.  Time is fast, Don’t lose your chance to do What you thought or dreamed about. Act now.

By Anonymous I quit social media yesterday.   My brain is still wired with the impulse to broadcast funny thoughts or the beauty found in my day. The awareness of ego and loneliness is magnified, like a single sound in a silent wilderness. I existed for a decade in a cloud of words and countless images. This is a small death. One without tragedy, only FOMO.  My sole companion is a dog. She delivers doses of oxytocin better than Facebook, but she will never ‘like’ my jokes. 

By Gwyneth Geiger Little chinchilla He high marks off the walls He runs on the wheel while I lie awake I wake up when he screams and calls With chocolate brown fur And a tiny pink nose He runs like a blur When he hears that bag, he knows When he is dusted his name is snowflake

By Maya Mossanen You buzz around the startled boy’s head; he swats and swats to no avail. I wonder why? Why trouble yourself with souls that will never understand. Your little wings carry you far and wide. You spend your six-week lifespan on this planet seeing more than that boy could see in 100 years. So why waste your fleeting time bothering him? Maybe this is your way of fighting back. Perhaps you know that one day that boy will become a farmer who will spray his crops with pesticides and kill your precious queen. Maybe bees want to fight the patriarchy too.

By Anonymous He knows I like him. He knows, but he won’t say anything back. I don’t know for sure if he likes me, but something tells me he might. His eyes are bright. A whiskey brown that shines in the sun. If he comes forward, I will be happy. If he asks me out, I will say yes. If I find someone new, I’ll take a chance. But for now, I will continue to hope.

By George Nagel She was gorgeous, outgoing, and popular. So he was shocked when she, smiling, approached him after class. “Hi. I’m Maizy.” A pause. “And your name is . . .?” “Oh. Uh… Jonny.” “I saw you petting that black dog the other day.” “Oh. Yeah. I like dogs. Um—cats, too.” She said, frowning, “My boyfriend threw a stick at that same dog.” “Oh no.” “I—I just don’t know many men who like animals.” A pause. “Jonny, you want to get a coffee?”

By Paul Twardock Danger can stare us in the face Or silently stalk, Hidden in its smallness. That which is apparent, Our body can react to: Fight or flight. That which is hidden Can whisper uncertainty And conspiracy in our mind, If we allow it.