Blind Date / Channel U / Suburban Amnesia
I was behind myself
no spooky action all summer
the dead becoming a friend almost a mother
Today I learned more about enemies
in the fall heaving bracelets and heavier breasts
in the dream kiss the little girl behind the satin-lined bureau
to work up an appetite
in the dream pointy hats and why it went sour
we grew up awry to be cheating wives
I never thought him an old man
huffing on my pink and white bike in the fire
the brass band counting down the great generation
skin tags and flags Continue reading “Three Poems | by Jessie Janeshek”
Tater is not Tater’s real name. When he was younger people called him Tatertot, but that wasn’t his real name either. Tater is 19 years old and about 5 and-a-half feet tall, weighing in at around 300 pounds. Some people have started to call him Potato. He is hoping it won’t catch on. His mother is crazy, she can’t hold down a job. She reads secondhand romance novels all day and when she isn’t doing that she’s smoking cigarettes and playing candy crush. Tater’s mom has not kept track of Tater’s social security card, or the number on the card. She also lost his birth certificate. Tater does not have a father or a driver’s license.
Tater stopped going to school after turning 18. He was in adult ed. He just sat in the back and played his Gameboy, nobody noticing him. Tater doesn’t think anyone noticed when he stopped going to school.
The first time Tater found out he could teleport was when he stole food from a gas station down the street. He had a liter of Mountain Dew Code Red in his pants and was loading up on beef jerky and nachos. The gas station guy caught him red-handed and laughed, saying not to move and that he was calling the cops. But he said it like Tater was a funny video he found on the internet that he had to show his buddies. Tater shut his eyes real hard and all-of-a-sudden, when he opened them: he was in the parking lot of the apartments where he lives with his mom, with the food.
Continue reading “Where Tater went to on Devil’s Night | by Jon Berger”
trying to see actual bullets
my face rubbed christmas
when she squeezed my neck at a scene
which reminded me she was there
i reached for maybe her hand but found a cupholder
in the aisle behind us an usher was crawling
between us like a kid who couldn’t swim
looking for scraps with a flashlight in his mouth
i was thinking about how much i like how fish
drink their way forward
omelette steam coming off the sidewalk
egg shell halves sitting like baseball caps
and daytime moths rising from them
like glitched pieces of sunlight Continue reading “i was drinking butter at any movie | by Eli Sahm”
The lantern’s wick is lit from
the flames of our bodies.
Demure and sweet-slick we
pluck our fangs from each
More readily accepted
among men, among
those arrogant believers.
They shove scriptures,
mortal tinctures down
our throats, in hope
we parrot some divine
message collected from
their small gods.
We roll our dimpled
hips in time, as one,
as many. The lantern’s
pulse, our hearts
stuttering, intermittent. Continue reading “Glass Oracles | by Brit Graham”
Our shoreline speaks of night; we can’t hear it but we can see its mouth move.
I am at the ready for god, but let’s be honest.
I gloss over the jetty, watch a seaflower hold its breath between the rock;
I hold my breath to move between the veil.
Miracles, we sing.
Death only happens to the living; even the quietest corners
pale away. We grope at rooms of mirrors, through tufts of flora,
for the rose of Jericho. Let me tumble to resurrection &
stop me from sleeping all day. I have barely seen the sun. I won’t wake up
until I have forgotten the scent of absence. There is an obscene goneness
in my palms.
Somewhere on land we dirge through the malaise. I am nothing
more than a girl who cries on balconies
at this point at this point I am nothing more than the balcony.
I gaze at the petals; they gaze at my wound.
I’m so wound-bound. I’m so lost to the vanity
of staying. Stay. Continue reading “I Put The Coffin Out To Sea | by Lisa Marie Basile”
I Am Constantly Seeking Reassurance
My thoughts are homeless & stealthy.
They make an orange moat
of my tongue,
constellation of moans that would confuse
farmers’ crops into growing
Please tell me
I am not
Kaleidoscopic eyes across which
glide dissolved specks of proteins,
lilac & laughing. My boyfriend
can only reassure me Continue reading “Two Poems | by Emily Paige Wilson”
Behind the Gateway Shopping Center
Portland Oregon 1971
Something in man’s form
hunted small boys
Would melt away
when I would spot him
by the billboard
Unless he had already
his words to them still venom to me
Take it, or you’re going to get hurt.
If it won’t fit, play with it.
Grab it fast. Grab it fast! Continue reading “Two Poems | by Brian Jerrold Koester”