{
I beseech you, Our Lady
……………of the 2 Factor. I
receive innumerable torrents
……………of bits, impulses which jam
your perpetual—
<b l i n k>
Continue reading “/**Prayer for Validation*/ by Catherine Fletcher”
(A recipe inspired by Selah Saterstrom)
Reheat the oven to 250, and dump Devil’s Food powder into a silver bowl. Steal some lipstick from Walgreens, wine red, scarlet red. Don’t forget to purchase a pack of Parliaments. Apply the lipstick and smoke a cigarette while you mix the cake. Add a heavy thumb of rum to the mix, the rum that you bought that night after. Gather yolks. Seven goldhalf globes, unborn. Drop them one by one into the bowl. Don’t cry. When Continue reading “How to Make a Supermoist Chocolate Cake by Julia Talen”
……..…… fell asleep by the endtrance door secure locked had ascended
the starecase without disturbing a fly aslip of a tongue knocked
understood the treason of existence or just laughed in advance the end
was always near accidentally spilled wrath always hangry for news paper
cuts metallic artifacts a finger is pointing to the horrorzone giggles
dissolve the dark figure in the corner it persists Continue reading “abite* by Darya Kulbashna”
The Dirt on Our Shoes
Peering down rabbit holes
is a sign of fever. Unable to move,
we haul logic in our wake—
the dirt on our shoes disappearing.
Unable to move, a sign of fever
the intensity of infinity—
we haul logic in our wake
where words put down roots.
Continue reading “Three Remixed Poems by Shloka Shankar”
When the big one hits, my boats
will be poised to transport passengers
from mainland California to the massive
wedge that falls off into the Pacific Ocean.
Continue reading “San Andreas Shores Ferry Service by Todd Mercer”
i dreamed of a fast talking charmer named mike who wanted me to work for him selling cars
he’d started out in jewelry so was well experienced in pushing high ticket items
but being a savvy chinless guy figured cars would always be needed
and diamonds despite being a girl’s best friend couldn’t get you to work at least not in most situations Continue reading “Dream Diary № 1 by RC deWinter”
If you come home your nightgown hem awash with dew,
you must have been dancing with the alpha wolf,
clinging to the wool of his collar, your paw
buried in the silk of his shoulder, your ankle
heeling to his rhythms as your heart nearly bursts,
striding, finding your place in his midnight pack.
. . . at seven o’clock in the evening, the light begins to fade and anguish begins. The light marks the frontier of something new, a border more dangerous than that of noon. This is the time of day when it becomes clear who is happy with life, and who can’t settle into it. At hotels and restaurants the waiters’ shift changes. For photographers it’s the magic hour when one can capture the most beautiful glow. Rohmer watched the green ray appear. Tanizaki set about penning his treatise in praise of shadow. This is the time it Continue reading “at seven o’clock in the evening by Jessica Sequeira”
Maybe I can calculate my way out of it? Terminal velocity, 54 m/s, @ 37,000 feet, which gives me about two and half minutes (not exactly, but considering, that’ll do). To do what? Think of a way out? Go over every detail and see if I could’ve done it better? Reassess my life via Nairobi, South B Hospital, seven and a half pounds, small bassinet in the corner of a mud-brick home, loving mother and father, primary school, high school, and Mrs Otieno telling Mama the boy’s some sort of mathematical genius. Straight to my Continue reading “First Thought by Stephen Orr”
like some obscure camera looming
the kitchen table reflects my image on
a chair by the table quietly
four nice chairs to sit in, to pull out
from under the table
shuffle the space, formulate the square room and
Continue reading “At The Kitchen Table by Sigrid Bergie Feliciano”
Title: memory (n.)
Year: 2019
Medium: Collage on paper, digitally altered
Play
before they play,
they feel a deep-boned
………………… pre-knowing
…… of the legerdemain of fire
unbidden,
… before they play,..they
……. g listen hot in thren & s-
……………………………… way
… a sorcery,
a silent infinite orrery of warmth Continue reading “4/4 by Petero Kalulé”
I
She said her name was Billie. Her mama called her Billie-Jean when she called her anything at all. At fourteen she was all angles and knees and steel-blue eyes. We sat in the doorway of my 1970’s shit-brown RV, the orange shag rug faded to something between mustard and burnt sienna. Dirt had settled so deeply into it that it was hard to tell the difference between the ground and floor. Continue reading “The Tao of “Howl” by KB Baltz”
TECH NOTES:
Room 2 – 6.17.2015
EMR #1421 – DOB 12.25.1981
JASMINE “JAZZ” ABRAHAM
PATIENT at lab tonight for a nocturnal polysomnographic assessment (NPSG) following complaints of excessive daytime sleepiness. Ordering physician will review data before ordering nap tests to rule out sleep disordered breathing as primary diagnosis.
PATIENT arrives noticeably sleepy. During 10/20 procedure, conversation lulls are induced by frequent microsleeps, but PATIENT is easily aroused.
Continue reading “Please Note: This Sleep Clinic is Fragrance Free by Tamara Sellman”
where’s this splace
what’s where’s this place this space this place, you ask, having once lived in water, kicking & dreaming, then on one daybreak dropped from planet uterus, yes, the planet that you can never go back to. now all grown up, an uprooted plant from earth, acrophobic, you do not do the sulking & screaming anymore, but your cognitive dissonance is obvious from your frequent wtf is this & wtf is that. stranded in a rubber plantation one dusk you catch yourself speaking suddenly in fluent malayalam. where’s this place. lost in thar desert another noon you surprise yourself speaking in rajastani. Continue reading “Two Poems by Ahimaz Rajessh”
The transparent eyelids of Los Angeles. The whole show of human sense … celestial mechanics suddenly unemployed … language makers with superior intellect … everyday sexual occurrences inside the supermarket … secret visions stymied by the cerebral systems … an endless sky … dead arms flay about in a great storm … the feint flash of a sticky … heavy rain. My ghastly face … these hots days … these telegraph wires … this Continue reading “CERTAIN MOTELS / MOTEL SOFA by Shane Jesse Christmass”
BURNING HOUSE PRESS 