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altered states

Interview with an Excommunicated Well Goddess by Caroline Stockford

Interview with excommunicated well-goddess and psychic poetess Abyssinia La Terre, otherwise known as the the doyenne of Dakhar. Interview by Archie Pelago.

AP: What would you say to the readers of ‘Two moons talking’?

Abyssinia: Cutter subordinate. You see, moments announce themselves with a kiss to the head, saying: (MISSING) But that is such rough news to good hooligans.

AP: What actually happened following the disappearance of (MISSING)?

Continue reading “Interview with an Excommunicated Well Goddess by Caroline Stockford” →

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Welcome to the Fold by Mónica Belevan

I.

Noon was first a shadowless lull in the byscape; a sudden, sunlit evenness now and then heightened by the silence of the cricketry, the dulling of the earliest birds. The woodland as a whole came to a halt at once, without a screech, as if it were of one mind in an incomputable amount of bodies the business of which was to multicull and culliply each other across time and worlds into complete transfiguration. It was rare, given this atmosphere, for even leaves to have to hold their breath, especially if –at least on land— this was an age of predators Continue reading “Welcome to the Fold by Mónica Belevan” →

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Retch Romantic by Jan Von Stille

……………1. Prologue
She was twenty, she was impressionable;
I betrayed her, she was angry, and
I left her; I was impressionable,
I regretted it; she was twenty, and

I am not a spiteful man and
I am not a poet.

That is, the–I dare not yet say my–
I say, the odalisque rises, stretches,
retches PBR and bilious memory,
all of it, down to dry dregs, and
flushes it onto this page.
Watch it run, quick on quick,
unto shit.
Continue reading “Retch Romantic by Jan Von Stille” →

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MYSELF THE PHOTOGRAPH by m. forajter

Look-horror: eye line of mouth. Squeeze back. Flesh ripple. Extrude.

Forget.

Now: google a crime scene photo. Axe to head. Shotgun face. Bathtub meat. Blank. Google a suicide note. I LOVE YOU. Look-horror: reach towards ?

GO TO YOUR BATHROOM.

Cry semen.

Continue reading “MYSELF THE PHOTOGRAPH by m. forajter” →

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The sun, who stole my secret to raise me by Amara Amaryah

10:59

Sweetest day of my life is stolen by the sun who saw me and chose to rise two hours late. Everybody stops to look not at me. I am dull gold as if I did not already                  my own skin. Do you know how long it takes to grow courage to steal from the one you might love? 4 generations. My mother might leave me where she found me and the shame might be archived as a hymn. At least now I am the only one who is not blinded; I am too Continue reading “The sun, who stole my secret to raise me by Amara Amaryah” →

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EVA by Edwin Evans-Thirlwell

Screen Shot 2019-09-29 at 11.47.49 AM

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Essaouira Diary by Finn Lafcadio O’Hanlon

In Anton Newcombe’s studio in Berlin, there was a typewriter. On this typewriter was a faded, dusty note that read, Everyone should be shipwrecked once in their life.

These words had an unsettling effect on me. Whether I understood it at the time or not, my ship was already on the rocks.
Continue reading “Essaouira Diary by Finn Lafcadio O’Hanlon” →

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Intinction by Amy Barnes

“Father, there are no palm branches.”

“How did you let that happen? Never mind, bring me the ashes.”

The deacon dutifully brought the marble jar before scurrying away to hide behind the altar’s red velvet throne. Father Orson pulled off the heavy lid to survey the contents before tucking the jar under his arm like a slaughter hog.
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Ten Simple Instructions for Complex Acts by William Cordeiro

after the FLUXUS Performance Workbook

1. All performers conduct a different hygiene routine: floss, clip toenails, wash hands, put on deodorant, shave, pluck eyebrows, etc. They may trade routines in a fugue-like pattern if they wish. Their tempo should correspond to the movements of a symphony.

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Three Poems by Ryan Harper

Interior Sea

The waters receded, new monsters
arrived. A planet in repair delivered
its goods, abiding every honest
course, nothing due nothing.

Continue reading “Three Poems by Ryan Harper” →

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Trip №3 by Brian Thorstenson

Electric overcast sky. I’m tripping with Doug and Derald, last Sunday, June. They’re impossibly beautiful, these two brown-eyed men, lit up by a new romance. We’ve abandoned the crowds at Civic Center for a patch of grass between the Opera House and the War Memorial. Sprawled on our backs we’re plugged into the Golden Gate, three Continue reading “Trip №3 by Brian Thorstenson” →

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A Prose Poem and A Poem by Laura Stringfellow

Where the Desert Met the Sea

…………..I had a dream where the desert met the sea. Imagine it—a shore of fleshy dust filled with creosote and mesquite, limbs small and fragile like those of the starving. My skin began to feel as though coated with fire, and the chair of earth I sat upon crumbled Continue reading “A Prose Poem and A Poem by Laura Stringfellow” →

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Motel Drumming by Sam Lou Talbot

Continue reading “Motel Drumming by Sam Lou Talbot” →

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The Private Study & Interior Architecture by Beau W. Beakhouse

I meditate separately. I read enclosed.

together we try to watch a panoramic video of a lunar eclipse. there’s a second where we both hold still   phone aligned with the moon

on an empty side street you sit in your car & inter questions about the lost causes of poetry, as the windows are touched by bay mist Continue reading “The Private Study & Interior Architecture by Beau W. Beakhouse” →

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One Act Play In Which The Stage Is In Many Places At Once But Only For You by Rob Colgate

after Dalton Day

[The stage is a stage at the center of a tent that is also a stage in an academic building that is also a stage within an office in a skyscraper that is also a stage underwater that is also just a normal stage in a concert hall or a theater or something like that. The stage is all of these places at once and both YOU and ME are on the stage. Continue reading “One Act Play In Which The Stage Is In Many Places At Once But Only For You by Rob Colgate” →

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IETHER by Rose Knapp

I Adonis Am
Glass Gladiaterroir
POSIlilliLiiiTT Axiomatic
Acoustic Axis Cis Turin Shrouding

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RELICS FROM THE LATE CARNAGE [erased-erasure re-edit] by John Vincler

RELICs cover

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Notes From The Drift by C.C. O’Hanlon

“Those who do not move, do not notice their chains.” – Rosa Luxemburg

 

My wife and I left Berlin as winter set in.

Our residence visas had expired. We were broke. Bailiffs were at the door. We had just enough money to make a run for it. I gave notice to the utility companies and our health insurer, forwarded our mail to a cancelled mailbox, and closed our bank account.
Continue reading “Notes From The Drift by C.C. O’Hanlon” →

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Two Poems by Adriana Stimola

NIGHT FRUIT

It ends with oranges, as
I work my way up,
inside, rise to
this closed-eye occasion.
This citrus coronation.
The cotton softly covering
the places you pry and I leak.
Continue reading “Two Poems by Adriana Stimola” →

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A Different Branch by Christopher John Eggett

We moved somewhere cold. Very cold.

Because I wanted a job choosing the noise that keyboards make. Away from the toy factory.

It was part of a plan like many thing were at the time. You start with the noises made by the keys and then you work your way up to implementing vowels. I’d done my dissertation on it.

We both thought it might be fine to live in another language.

Continue reading “A Different Branch by Christopher John Eggett” →

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