Photo by Wendy Scofield on Unsplash


poem: Building Blocks


Sometimes I just want to buy something

fuck like it’s the last hurrah

build an ant farm

               although I don’t like ants

I want to do a thing – some kind of thing

               (I started this when I was walking)

and then climbed into myself 

to examine the area

that contains my heart

               I found the heart


there was a big empty

               yet I keep trying to fill

               the opened up and gaping

               black hole

things like shopping


               ant farms

come into play

               potential replacements

I’d take a lover

               but I would ruin him immediately

we would share a nightcap

I’d roll back my skin for him

in proud display 

he would see the oozing madness



seem much more interesting

how they navigate together

build complex interiors

I keep moving

               beg to be shook

I want the hollow of my missing heart

to cave in

               (I am still walking)

long blocks west

there’s a dull pain in my toe

from blocks and blocks

I ceremoniously walk

to feel human

               that’s what humans do isn’t it?

walk, talk, fuck, eat

am I missing anything???





poem: All Roads



Has everyone gone dark on me?

Stare at lines in the mahogany floor

Looks like a stick figure

Missing one leg

A hobbling Jesus

Or does it represent me

Gimping through apocalypse

After apocalypse

And if I ever thought I had one brilliant idea….

I thought wrong

All roads lead to a mirage

A voluptuous


Floating on a unicorn raft

In a sparkling sapphire nirvana

Close in on that beauty

Closer now….

find she’s just a stick figure

Sinking into murky mud 

While I stagger away

In the dark searching for 

The after life





poem: Fuel cell



I wish I didn’t ooze out of bed each day

I want you to tap my screen

so I can come alive again

reverberate and light 

us up into oblivion

               kinetics required to put me together

I don’t want to be your constant bad dream

I need a lobotomy or

               perhaps you do

then we can put away the carving knives

and put up with each other

these gadgets

do nothing as much as give us something

               to do

               to buy

               to want

I want your human hands

               place mine into them

               and birth a nebula

a cataclysm

happens when two fireballs


if I didn’t need you

I’d have burned you

but need is a powerful craving

that closes up wounds


fires this heart

               to burn

I’m smoldering

               on hold

I want to scream

but who’d hear me

               stoke this fire baby

cold travels fast





Donna studied Creative Writing and Philosophy at NYU’s Gallatin School under William Packard, founder and editor of the New York Quarterly.  They were recently published in The Opiate, Anti Heroin Chic, Beatnik Cowboy, and Horror Zine, among others. Their novel, Death Sisters, was published through Alien Buddha Press.

Donna currently serves on the editorial team for Red Fez.