Continue reading “Fibres of Elevate by Clare Archibald and Brian McHenry”
THE DESERT SAYS the father’s dead it’s a hole we’re standing on, a grain of death, the grain of His death white in the Son praised white the only time. Remembering money is the medicine the judge said others were to take, a dead brother slayne in stammering name of my father’s dark kentucky I made, the tally thrown down to create. Continue reading “Cross Fictions by Garett Strickland”
Boogeymen
I lie awake, my eyes fixed on the emptiness above,
searching for something in the shadows, Continue reading “Poetry by Lisa L. Weber”
<nite out>
syringe brains
have their queen
of jazz //
“smells of rotted
sunshine!”
he wailed into
velvet curtains, Continue reading “3 Poems by Sara Matson”
Corinne shrunk herself to bird size, just hatched.
Cupped on a leaf, she floated down from a tree branch delicately. Her mind rocked back and forth, rocking the leaf back and forth. This was something she did sometimes when she needed to calm down, more relaxing than counting to ten. In her vision, a centipede dropped into the leaf, the comfort cut off completely. Continue reading “Crevice by Trina Young”
[She clamps the eyes]
She clamps the eyes
one last
time and begins to pluck the
hair.
She keeps their necks tied
and gallops
My father took me down to the stream and tore my denim dress. The sun tinkled on the water while I tasted it, all fish scales and mud. He stepped along the downy bank, between high scarlet grasses, broken from the wind. Eyes veined. His neck contorted with the strain of watching me float, tendons rigid. Continue reading “A Pulser Sunsetting by Rebecca Grandsen”
I am an amputated arm – trying to accept my body’s state of mind
after four hours of spasms
I went to work wearing your watch
thinking that it would hold me
closer to my body
no one noticed the ticking
I raised the mug to my mouth Continue reading “3 Poems by Jayme Russell”
Grace, he said, flickering her name. Grace, a staticky word chopped into the bottom of the sea. Soft, beery slither ran down her face from where he spat. The water came in waves and washed gold summer through her bones. He was above her again, his hair deep silk on her face. His voice was in and out below the waves. His tongue loose, wet, electric with hurt. A burned hum shuttered from his lips. Continue reading “The Sky Became the Perfect Colour and Back Again by Laura Ellen Joyce”
A7
Silent street, cinematic every time
a car, a motorcycle
someone in sharp
heels.
Every moment he could have
should have kissed her.
Couple sits in the living room,
floors below, speaks
of divine reassurance, Continue reading “3 Poems by Clare Needham”
Dead of Night Eyes
I pace inside the grip of the clock,
glide across darkening patches of linoleum,
hunting for murmurs of isolation
as disease sneaks around the edges of my sight.
I pierce the quiet, spear- like and devilish.
My pulse taps against the delicate canvass Continue reading “3 Poems by Susan Richardson”
They Caught Me Giving Them Food
they caught me giving them food so i had to stop doing it
some food which i knew they would find
otherwise it was the loudspeaker or something given me to read
they said we were the cause of war poverty hunger all their misfortunes Continue reading “2 Poems by Bobbi Lurie”
the names of swords
(something) has its own subtext
sleepingmind torturing wakingbody Continue reading “From ‘Notes on Not Sleeping’: Dream Catalogue III by Rachael de Moravia”
The First Talkie
Long hair was always the prettiest.
Select the star to supersede
what was your zodiac sign
select me to say I’m home now
home down in the woods in my pink and white dress
w/ the blue bear sewn on it. Continue reading “3 Poems by Jessie Janeshek”
[Ugly ground swell moss]
Ugly ground swell moss
finds you worth keeping
near Ugly ground swell moss knows
a face of you you cannot Ugly ground
swell moss wants you all to itself to cover
you until your surface area is its surface area Continue reading “2 Poems by Jacob Schepers”
black refraction beyond crucifix
will rail stretch surfaces’ sharp tensions?
grace-solid canal surfaces Continue reading “Stalker by Mark Goodwin”
I lost my words. I can not open the can. In the tin can, the golf balls are rolling and I lost my words. I can not open the can. In the tin can, the golf balls are rolling and murmuring. Each word takes apart inside the can and has no context already. Even though I can not pull them out, I am still here. Continue reading “I am still here by hiromi suzuki”
BURNING HOUSE PRESS 