Oh my God, u r Amazing. | by Elisabeth Horan

Thank you always for you.
For all of your Selves – your Hells;
if it indeed plays out that
we can burn alive in more than one –
let it conflag around us
for there is no other wound
I’d prefer to endure
than the hot kiss of a She-Devil
who rents us a room;
be it red-lit and ready for She-Rage;
I say Fuck to Repenting.

Our words are the aloe / our tongues the spit
that can seduce a million demons in one lick –
When God is ready for us, sound the alarm
I’m still waiting for Him / to donate alms Continue reading “Oh my God, u r Amazing. | by Elisabeth Horan”

Nimbus Jettison | by Tara Lynn Hawk

With great intended care………….no,
               let me start again
In hand shaky haste, I slid the package,
               all that I had left,
                             through the slot in the cloudy glass.
That chunky glass they want you to think is bullet proof.
Behind the barely transparent smudge wall,
               the man scrutinizes it with a jeweler’s loupe.
Taps it with a small file, snaps at it with his teeth.
“Not interested. Gold plate”.
Are you kidding me?
All these years I so zealously protected it.
Tenderly placing it in it’s velvet storage box.
Cleverly hiding it in a basket of dirty laundry
             whenever I was going out of town.
I had held onto it for so long, cherishing it as
          my most precious of possessions.
Keeping mine whilst my friends and associates had long discarded theirs.
All this time and effort, to find out it is just
              base metal and gold paint.
F#*king halo.
Continue reading “Nimbus Jettison | by Tara Lynn Hawk”

A Sonnet to the Siren Aksinya – Dark eyeglasses, bare shoulders, very unfriendly | by Akaky Akakievich

Dashing through the waywards ways of how one should stay to

Attach with the golden enterprise of the sauntering side of thus

We have missed her while it is still of some esteem to plead over

The nasty but concurrent has been here to faithfully ponder the rue

Of a moreover steadfast caved in is the luminous sounds to not cuss

Overlapping was the needled and not so much of a torrid vapid clover Continue reading “A Sonnet to the Siren Aksinya – Dark eyeglasses, bare shoulders, very unfriendly | by Akaky Akakievich”

Two Poems | by Allison Grayhurst

Surrogate Dharma

I didn’t think I would get lost
or be chained to a contractual victory.
I thought a grain would grow,
become a solid garden. Fires would come, then
firefighters. I would be testifying about
the worth of what survived.
     That is not what happened. I fell prey
to the propaganda of affirmations,
to the volume of control I could contain.
My dream dropped out of me
like a miscarriage. I hoped I could forget:
Tie my shoes, zip up a coat
and kiss the shelter I have. Bridges here and there –
they are not mine to travel.
Vinegar keeps getting injected into my bones,
replacing the marrow with
its potent clarity. Do you see? I am getting older.
It will be over
and I have to be able to say I served well.
My mouth opens and folds like a fledgling wing.
People pass – each one a violin note, a digit, a reluctant
panting pitch. Conversations are ash.
I don’t like living in these elements, my neck
stretched up into the dense middle
of a monsoon. Let me climb,
dragging this dead beast behind me.
Let me live where my father went to school,
on a Himalayan peak.
I am not a petal. My courage is fickle, it fortifies or fades,
dependent each day on mutual obligatory infatuation.
     I can’t keep pretending:
The sun is strong. The night is strong. I am not stronger.
     I am in this hovel with my lamp, tasting metal
of varying textures –
rusted, gold, and other star-erupted symbols –
greeting obscurity, broken toenails
I can’t be bothered to trim. How many rooms, my God?
How much waiting and walking, and the fish?
I could be a fish. Make me
one of those – sliding about, weaving with one full-body stroke
through a lush intricate terrain, mastering
a juicy undergrowth. Continue reading “Two Poems | by Allison Grayhurst”

SIDE-EFFECTS MAY VARY | by Stephanie Chang

i return to find you
on our porch swing
breeding ladybugs
by the multitude.
your carcass
wails from the spine,
long-limbed like
skeleton leaves.
don’t scare me
like this: where on earth
did you get those
silkmoth wings from?
–no, no
those aren’t toys, dear–
but look at you!
frothing at the
mouth with stars blended
into bubble bath foam.
tell me how we will
sink teeth beneath skin
tonight, what with you
lapping at my ankles
like a goddamn dog. Continue reading “SIDE-EFFECTS MAY VARY | by Stephanie Chang”

Bacchus, to the Dead Boy | by Marilyn Schotland

Darling, don’t worry;

they will tear you to pieces in the same, accursed city where everyone
else in your family will meet their doom. And of course,
this place is hungry for fool’s blood. No matter how many times
you raze this place with salt kissed invocations,
              some things will never change.

You will always be born from the mouths of beasts,
in a fragmented space like the thunderclouds on the horizon.
The body that you want to separately believe you hold dominion over,
will be dissolved like sugar water by mothers, maggots, and maidens.
             Wine stopped giving relief months ago. Continue reading “Bacchus, to the Dead Boy | by Marilyn Schotland”