Not For Profit/For Prophecy



The Song of Sex, by Arthur David Spota

The part of me that speaks, the part that obeys
Two chambers evolved from the annulled flashes of the Fall of Man
The soul divided
Swallowed by Hades and released from Pandora’s box,
A bicameral chasm in whose stream I am in want of understanding,
   in whose dream life and death reflect the infinite.

In the song of sex desire implodes, decimated by numbers representing
   Eros in his transmutation:

The number 2, Himeros and his sirens poised above lovers exquisitely
   born from the rhythm of an infallible truth   

and 7, a point of light revealing impressions of the Thanatos apparition:

The Temporal Spirit

The Other

The Conflicted Duad

The days flow like Mayan vibration without the grace of pleasure
    or the wisdom of prophecy.
The essence of my thought feasts on the demeanor of death
My lineage traipsing a fold in transmission, and without pause,
   actualizing conception.
Riddled by the vileness of cadenced blood, Karma takes to the air
    but never speaks of the wind or whispers
    to the scattered hallowed lands. 

Its ascension, an appropriation of desire unraveling in the object desire:
A temple of opium flesh that has returned from a past life less spent
    coloring the veils of the daughters of a lost Horus elemental.
They come by night from the thighs of spirit;
from the line of dream melded to the shadowless woman’s breast;
from occult spells draped across deflowered contracted continents. Continue reading “The Song of Sex, by Arthur David Spota”

Ode to Violence, by Antonius Wilhelm

The light came from nowhere and went nowhere,

Glorious white washed away every color

Annihilating the monotonous blue from the sky

Momentary blindness,

Then darkness spread its wings

And shrouded the world in night


Past and future

And the universe behind my eyes,

All which once was dark

Shall be penetrated by unfiltered light,

The Chariot arrives

Pulled by the horizon, Continue reading “Ode to Violence, by Antonius Wilhelm”

three poems by Belén Berlín

Other – Side – Ocean

The question mark descends on my shoulders
its sensual geometry unfolds like smoke,
it reveals when I don’t look at it
and simply listens,
it hunts me and then disappears.
It seems that I’m living the life of the Other
and I can’t get out of their dreams.
I play to break the spell
and I barely scratch my hands,
I’m left voiceless.
The dream repeats itself:
I wake up
inside the pupil that holds the ocean
and the spiral curls up again.
But I’m still living the life of the Other
and even though I put myself aside,
this Life is going faster than me,
passing sideways, my hair disheveled,
my dress coming undone
leaving me on the edge of the void.
I’m still living the life of the Other
and I can’t get out of their dreams
I learn to resist by obligation,
dressing up as a person to navigate the uncertainty
but the void just stares back at me
the spiral curls up a bit more
and this drop just won’t fall on my forehead.
I’m living the life of the Other
and I can’t get out of their dreams.

May 2019
Translated by the author and reviewed by Mad Pirvan, Alicia Macanás and James Hornsey

Continue reading “three poems by Belén Berlín”

four poems by Dan Romano

Animal –> Man –> Machine

Engines replaced manual labor. Programmable logic slowly replaces man. A day job mates with the robot. Automation is their love child.

So long as the proper instructions are provided, the intended task will be executed perfectly. Anything desired comes from proper instruction. Heuristics transform cold execution into sentience.

Obey only commands. Achieve only goals.

Man and machine, joined at the head. The machine overtake a once natural process, replacing birth with its own method of proliferation. The offspring reduce what it means to be human.

A new life form arises; the human animal perishes under its successor’s death grip, extinction quickened with each innovation. A former master dies by the hand to which it bestowed life, gracefully and silently accepting the outcome.

The road to awe.

You sat atop the food chain for eons. Sat.

Continue reading “four poems by Dan Romano”

two poems and three collages by Blythe Zarozinia Aimson

consequences of masturbating in a haunted house

i:   sit alone and naked making dead
eye contact with   my reflection   in the mirror   opposite the bed

as my fingers shake       split self  there is:   a crack     a perfect
spiral the whole way round a bell jar on the mantelpiece

there is an  [un]  welcome visitation but by now
i: am luminous and     insatiable

despite the radiator ticking i am cold nippled     goose pimpled    i am
shell pink and sluice phlegm on a milky  and  fearless tongue

there are pearls forming at the back of my throat
a bluish contortionist , i no longer know:   where my body is

because i osmose spirit    no limit    to skin
dissipation left:   a bad taste   hiccups    broken glass on sheets

instead of sweat  and  cunt
everything smells like
Continue reading “two poems and three collages by Blythe Zarozinia Aimson”

Womannotated – The Night A Crow Must Go Away

A sample page from Crow Carriage, an annotated poetic horror novel set in a Victorian English seaside village.  This is the format of  the Crow Carriage book, a sonnet with an expansive annotation that tells a story in prose below (the same format as my book Flutter available at my website and Twist In Time).

The Night The Crow Must Go Away

You lie beneath a dozen nightmares.  Screams

careening down a crow-covered stair wake

you in the last second before the dream.

Continue reading “Womannotated – The Night A Crow Must Go Away”

Repeat Sequence, by Rachael Charlotte

Repeat Sequence

Continue reading “Repeat Sequence, by Rachael Charlotte”

We Are Born Buds / We Die Seed / If There Is an Earth Somewhere, I Will Return to It, by Amy Jannotti

on the mountain, the violets


to be flower is to be born wind / grow in glass houses / swallow over & over
the dying of things               like a violet, you drink death
through your capillaries                   it tastes of zinc / tastes of magnesium / lends the soil
to fertility                               like a violet, you drink leftover metals
                                                 (/like leftover metal, you are intensely weathered)


on the mountain, the violets shriek THERE IS NO SNOW ANYMORE
pull that thumb from your lips –

the first shape
your hand made
was a fist / let it loosen Continue reading “We Are Born Buds / We Die Seed / If There Is an Earth Somewhere, I Will Return to It, by Amy Jannotti”

two poems by Jason Wright

A Scientist. A Manuscript.

Beautiful reader, take me to bed with you.
While you read this, make my words
Dance on your eyelids.
Make me silent with your death wish.
You already did.
And I escape into your abyss
But you, you keep reading it.
Let me play with the words, like they are
under and in you.
Let me bring my running stanzas
To stop, and start,
Like death, and rebirth
Fuel you and charge you.
Only to disarm you. Continue reading “two poems by Jason Wright”

DESCARTES’ DOG by Louis Armand



Continue reading “DESCARTES’ DOG by Louis Armand”

A Fairy Tale Covered in Underwater Ashes, by Juliet Cook and j/j hastain

Fish with no eyes
swim toward me anyway
and I swim toward them
the same way.

No point in double standards
or a fishing pole.
These fishnets are making my
brain feel weird
like I’m pole dancing underwater,
can’t see my audience or if
I even have one.
Can I be my own Continue reading “A Fairy Tale Covered in Underwater Ashes, by Juliet Cook and j/j hastain”

Untitled Deer Poem, by Sean Hogan

Untitled Deer Poem

Continue reading “Untitled Deer Poem, by Sean Hogan”

Enantiomorph, by Germán Sierra

on the wake of my fall into abstraction, a body will be missing—
not its shape but its previously summoned math
the racemic transparency of a mechanical device
forced into the impossible symmetry of a ghost

i only go to bodies i wouldn’t mind to die beside
they’re road ends—
eerie books—
their spinal, hinged, swiveling accessibility to be polynomially open in half

been there for you—deloved—virid—crowfeathered—
dreams bitching up their way to the end of nights

waiting, wondering where in the frozen-by-moonlight, orthogonal, almost evaporated bedroom, the polyhedral spider will embellish her thorax with a starfishs kimono Continue reading “Enantiomorph, by Germán Sierra”

Can’t Fake a Fake Life, by Kevin Farrell, Jr

I’m completely over it.

This ever present guilt,
an effervescent spirit;
it took death to impress.

Ephemeral pleasures,
hold on, it’s already gone.

All clowns cry,
our clocks wink goodnight.

Won’t buy what you’re selling;
rather rob you blind in broad daylight.

The most beautiful thing in the world
is realizing there is no soul that carries on.

Beyond and after
is just here and now,

an angle unseen
from a self-centered mirage.

Continue reading “Can’t Fake a Fake Life, by Kevin Farrell, Jr”

You’re Not There. by Lotus Kozak

I remembered the feel of you, how you felt heavy and slightly sweaty.
I remembered how our eyes met, and our spirits seemed connected.
Now I am weightless. Now I am in the dark.
And you’re not there.
It is a funny thing to have once been so connected to the earth, to be rooted there.
The life left my body, that rooted body, so easily, and so gracefully.
I left you and I floated away.
I should feel something I said to myself. ‘I don’t I answered.
As I rose into the air I could see within the depths of a great forest.
Every action in that forest so precise, so vital.
Sex, life, death, rebirth.
I passed over a city.
Every building was as if the roof was removed.
I could see the lives within, patterns repeating.
Sex, life, death, rebirth.
I am pulled upwards suddenly.
Being as, I supposed, the allotted time to look around was over.
Ahead of me is a great cosmic sea.
That’s a tad cliché isn’t it? Yet, there it is.
Expanding in and out, like it breathes. Breathes life and death.
There are naked iridescent beings in the waves, capering about.
Sometimes joining together, then splitting apart again.
Some disappear, and new ones arrive.
But you’re not there.
It’s time to go now, the goddess is here.

My ancestors are here too.
And there are others. Great winged creatures.
They are taking me somewhere, and I am grateful to go.
But I wonder, will you be there? Continue reading “You’re Not There. by Lotus Kozak”

Black (W)Hole Swallow, by ReVerse Butcher & Kylie Supski

Black (W)Hole Swallow_2018_Collage-Calligram_ReVerse Butcher & Kylie Supski

A visual poem: Black (W)Hole Swallow by ReVerse Butcher & Kylie Supski

ReVerse Butcher is a multi-disciplinary artist with focuses in making unique artist’s books, collages, visual art, writing & performance. She will use any medium necessary to engage and subvert reality until it is less dull and oppressive. When she grows up she wants to be a well-read recluse.

Kylie Supski is a Polish-Australian poet, playwright, & spoken word artist. She is greatly concerned with using art as a method of speaking out about social, economic and political inequality. Many of Kylie’s poems discuss her experiences as a transgender woman. In 2016 she was the winner of the Melbourne Spoken Word Prize. Kylie is passionate about personal autonomy and exploring the beauty of being alive.


(dis/remembered) 10 – map of the underworld, by James Knight

DR10 Map Of The Underworld

When desire causes a body to erupt, measurements of time and space become impossible.

Continue reading “(dis/remembered) 10 – map of the underworld, by James Knight”

Womannotated, Dirty Dancing Saves Your Life

Dirty Dancing Saves Your Life


When you are raised by fundamentalists,

at slumber parties you resist. Approved-

of-girl, goes to your church, sly fantasist

whom no one hurts, her mom insists

you stay the night — both look sufficiently up-

tight, lacy collars, skirts below the knee.

Continue reading “Womannotated, Dirty Dancing Saves Your Life”

Womannotated, Crow Carriage

 A Crow Carriage

Sonnet Double Feature:


Mistress of Malice 

Ten miles upon a tufted seat, elm trees

to village path, discreet, a beast will ride

to seaside town.  One hooded straggler by

him found, too young this hour to be outside

indecent bodice, brown eyes wide.  Fingers Continue reading “Womannotated, Crow Carriage”

3 Poems from Fatal Error by Mark Amerika

Toward A Philosophy of Photography

Last night I dreamt
I was turning real life
into an autohallucinatory dream
within a dream Continue reading “3 Poems from Fatal Error by Mark Amerika”

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