Not For Profit/For Prophecy



Womannotated – The Dirty Truth About Butterflies

November 29th, 2020

The Dirty Truth About Butterflies

It’s easy for a religiously bred

(misled) girl to make an Eden of

a garden, angels of winged soon dead,

repopulating in three weeks. But love’s

amino acids butterflies won’t find

in agapanthus nectar, waterfalls —

Continue reading “Womannotated – The Dirty Truth About Butterflies”

Snakes in the Garden, by Raquel Gomez Savoy

Snakes weave in and out of their spaces, they are hardly seen or heard or anticipated. They usually simply appear, without warning.
Usually they scare the fuck out of you, and you jump and try to escape and while you do— while you’re running, the snakes will follow. They’re hungry.

Continue reading “Snakes in the Garden, by Raquel Gomez Savoy”

from How to Be Still, Heather McShane

“Those who know ghosts tell us that they long to be released from their ghost
            life and led to rest as ancestors. As ancestors, they live forth in the present
            generation, while as ghosts they are compelled to haunt the present generation
            with their shadow life.”[1]

In response to my dreaming that my mother was a ghost, my therapist started talking to me about Sigmund Freud and, by extension, Hans Leowald. My understanding of my therapist’s explanation was that Freud considered parents as other beings, separate from their children, in their children’s minds, until they (their children) begin to take on the ideals of their parents. With the death of the parents, children begin to embody their parents, as if their ghosts are dead.

Continue reading “from How to Be Still, Heather McShane”

Pages: 1 2

There Might Have Been Horses by Rebecca Loudon

Oh sad potato wrapped in plastic like Laura Palmer I might have been Caroline Calloway I might have swallowed a yellow sundress a lemon yellow orchid a story to tell by a bonfire at night in a forest in Montana

my tell is a magnetic lie
my tell is a rotting animal
my tell is a broken knuckle
my tell is a tent pitched at Flathead Lake

where I traveled backward into wilderness where fire and blackberries devoured my girl soul where soil and conifers met at the trout mouth edge and blue water and black deep did not restore my sister but we rose her anyway we opened her stone and chanted up her finished flesh and worshiped her little dress her lilac crown her apples her plush rabbit

I played my violin in the forest
I thought music could fix my disease
I thought music could raise the dead

when my face doesn’t unlock my phone I panic I have become Caroline Calloway my life mere electricity I have disappeared into caves among the stalactite’s green glisten the ocean never closer than my memory of Montana there might have been horses there might have been giant hares there might have been my father building a fire raising my sister from the ashes look he said look at her perfection Continue reading “There Might Have Been Horses by Rebecca Loudon”

2 Poems by Jeff Pearson

Sing Me the Song

after John Lyon

When the exiled pioneers stared at the Salt Lake Valley, they drank clean air. A sky framed by Nature’s Bulwark presumed their own. They slept in the open next to trees in the crux of the canyon, and night came. An armistice with ground, as each fire began to smell less and less like Buffalo chips. Crowded by the grid system, I search for a street where I am not spied on by a steeple. Imperfect Zion sleeping in Pioneer Park.

Nor the Sound of pollution voice is heard?

I am the visitor, welcome on the back row with handshake full of grease brought again to sacrament meeting. Ceiling fans spin backward the longer I stare. Hymnodic. I remember as a kid, a deacon, I once put Sprite in the cups for sacrament’s water. Nursery tastes like blessings.

But where shall we find this fairy vale
Where the naked are clothed and the hungry fed Continue reading “2 Poems by Jeff Pearson”

Labyrinth Song by Lucy Whitehead

Labyrinth Song

Not everyone enters
their maze on a mission.
Some of us wake one day
curled inside a darkness
that stretches in all directions
for countless miles         caught
in a lacework cage reaching
beyond years.

…………………Ever winding
we wander half blind
through rotting corridors
searching for signs of life
stumbling over pits that beckon
beneath wearied feet
in the yawning velvet dark

with dead ends that glint
with knives and chains
slamming shut doors
that open silently
into nothingness

…………………chasing golden
voices not our own over
floors that sharpen suddenly
into spikes         through
mirrored courtyards where
we glimpse our aging faces
catch sad minotaurs
behind our eyes.

We become adept
at surviving         stripped
of all but our existence
at times      weaving
the gleaming edges of pain
into armour and amulets
fortifying our bones Continue reading “Labyrinth Song by Lucy Whitehead”

The Forever Tree by Kyla Houbolt

The Great Also,
the Forever Tree: and maybe it’s always
synesthesia, like, look how this word
FREE is green, like GREEN only
blown open by a wind first and
then a fire, not closed off
like the edge of a crayon where
someone (who?)
is tempted to think color just stops, boxed
into its predictable shape
at the factory. You’re not
tempted, are you?

(On a lamp post in the middle of the bridge,
a piece of green tape, and hand penciled,
“the factory is out of control”) Yes,
I’m tempted, always tempted to believe
edges like that must
enclose and exclude. For
example, you’re out there, invisible, and I’m
in here, writing this.

But the Great Also, in the details
where everything numbingly the same
is stunningly various, and vice versa, secretly
runs the out-of-control factory. Yes? Continue reading “The Forever Tree by Kyla Houbolt”

3 Poems by Anna Kahn

Considerations for Maze-Building/Determining an Appropriate Level of Guilt Upon Leaving Someone I Do Not Love

1) The intention of the maze is to disrupt
the intuition of the traveller as frequently
as possible // how often did they hand me the map?
Was I asked politely to navigate? Told?

Permitted? 2) At a fork where within sight
one path branches again and the other does not,
the traveller will assume the branched path is correct.
How convincing the wrong turns should be made Continue reading “3 Poems by Anna Kahn”

Two Collages by Shloka Shankar

memory (n.)

Title: memory (n.)
Year: 2019
Medium: Collage on paper, digitally altered

Continue reading “Two Collages by Shloka Shankar”

Two Poems by Bryan Borland


Continue reading “Two Poems by Bryan Borland”

Three Poems by Emma Bolden w/a Drawing by Guest Artist Cathy Daley


Continue reading “Three Poems by Emma Bolden w/a Drawing by Guest Artist Cathy Daley”

From “Poems of the Day” — Three Prose Poems by Miljana Cunta, w/ an image by Dušan Šarotar. Translated from Slovene by Rawley Grau.

Continue reading “From “Poems of the Day” — Three Prose Poems by Miljana Cunta, w/ an image by Dušan Šarotar. Translated from Slovene by Rawley Grau.”

Two Poems by Steve Denehan


He was one of those people
those who talk
purely because they can
they are everywhere
especially, but not exclusively
at petrol stations
grocery shops
banks and beaches
and school gates
they love school gates

Continue reading “Two Poems by Steve Denehan”

Escapes by Lucy Whitehead


I remember
the rocks hot under
my skin, black sun-glistened
flecks in sugar-almond stone,
rush of foam-tinged
sparkling water, the pull back
of waves fizzing sand.

Continue reading “Escapes by Lucy Whitehead”

Traces by Lee Potts


As slow as the breathing

of the ancient giant

long said to sleep beneath

our town’s tallest hill,

snow piled up that week

against the edge

of pine needled forest floor,

then fell back like a cold ocean tide.

Continue reading “Traces by Lee Potts”

A short story by Meryl Baer

Continue reading “A short story by Meryl Baer”

‘memory/loss in the key of blue’ by caitlin m. spencer

Continue reading “‘memory/loss in the key of blue’ by caitlin m. spencer”

3 poems by Gabriel Mundo

(Image, Simson Petrol, Unsplash)
Continue reading “3 poems by Gabriel Mundo”

3 poems by Akpa Arinzechukwu

Continue reading “3 poems by Akpa Arinzechukwu”

A poem by Lee Wright

Continue reading “A poem by Lee Wright”

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