Not For Profit/For Prophecy



Gov’t Queries by Katherine DeCoste

During the purplest midnight the time comes to repurpose and scavenge the deepest recesses of the pancreas, sugar-processor and liquefier, mushy and shapeless, which is the least necessary of every twinkling lump of flesh under the round belly. This is major surgery.

A procedure is in order, to be followed precisely.

First, wetness settles: stretch in it, breathe it and swell up, an oversalted fish. Water is made up of many parts and layers: the sunlight, the twilight, and the midnight. The operation must be completed in the dim part where dust particles are zooplankton and speak with urgency to each visitor. Dust spins through air, little animals through water. Dust is silent, but the ocean buzzes and they wiggle their weak legs, incapable of standing.

Second, the endemic, veined skin is stickily plastered onto the inner red eyelids. Bodies are simple, paper-maiche collections of wallpaper. Outside, floral patterns. Inside, the abdominal organs all run together—root around until you find the one you’re removing. It’s easiest with closed eyes.

Third, the sea grows weary of pressing and pressure fades but darkness doesn’t.
Fourthly, the patient will grow distressed as you sever their energy-delivery-system. Explain it like this: I had the bends once and an angel appeared. She glowed brightly in the midnight zone. Said, “we’ve carbonated your bloodstream and these are not simple growing pains. There are impassable meters between you and the heavenly sphere spinning.” Around my finger she tied a white ribbon glowing green in her eerie radioactivity—it read, “eat me.”

Finally they will need to be sustained somehow—choke down sugared green Jell-O and butterscotch pudding cups. Only foods that wobble and can only be partially-chewed are acceptable. The fluorescent lights never fully go off in the hall. Force jittery insulin into their veins.


Author photo

Katherine DeCoste is a writer and undergraduate English student in Edmonton, Alberta. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Sybil Journal, Rag Queen Periodical, Structural Damage, and others. She likes to write about anxiety, dissociation, and decay. You can find her @katydecoste on Twitter and Instagram.

About the banner image: The operating room orderly, a 1-W, Voluntary Service worker, wheels a patient from the elevator to the operating room. VS workers in the Mennonite Hospital at La Junta, Colo., contribute much through their sacrificial service.


Privacy Policy by Germán Sierra

This page informs you of my policies regarding the collection,
and disclosure
of Personal Information I receive.

I use your Personal Information only for mechanical purposes.
By existing, you agree to the collection and use of information in accordance with this policy. Continue reading “Privacy Policy by Germán Sierra”

Poor Magicks by Mike Kleine

Prophet of the Sixteenth—what happened over in Vietnam—the BMV of Mr. Monroe found at the bottom of the lake—seaweed that glows at night—waves of pollution—ordering an aperitif with no intent to stay—political turmoil—a concept that is foreign to everyone else in the room but Maurice—fringe benefits—a lawyer from the 90s—the maggots of Deh’N’yyii’l—a metal container overflowing with people—the position of the sun after he drinks the potion—the tusk of an elephant and your uncle who says, African steel—the sound of your heart as you climb the mountain—pastiche moments—Edward saying he is Edwardian—footrace in the middle of the forest with no shoes—snapping zir tibia to teach zir a lesson—valleys of the moon—squeezing the life out of that goldfish just to say you now know what that feels like—some blowtorches covered in Vaseline—a ridiculous amount of knowledge for someone who is only going to live to 53—cliffs at darq—she’s cutting her hand because the daemon said so—the blind man says he hears the waves of despair—there is a hill in Australia and they call it Vanity Hill.



Mike Kleine is a writer and avid player of tennis.

About the banner image: When a new furrow is to be started the derrick raises the plow and the car moves down the track with it to the point where the furrow is to start.

Notes for poems to be found in the desert by Tony Messenger

The poetry of the desert is sparse. To locate a poem in the desert you cannot just look, you must smell, touch, hear and taste your surroundings. Never attempt to write about the desert, the result will be too much like writing. These notes form clues as to finding poems in the desert. Whilst the notes may be extensive the poems themselves live a tenuous existence & are barely clinging to life.
Seek out the poems. Continue reading “Notes for poems to be found in the desert by Tony Messenger”

Placename Triptych by Kelly Gangeness Le

After Cordovani’s guide

Bones. Bones. Stack on the clavicles. Bones. Bones.
Gift relic sacred base passageway base sacred relic gift.
Bones. Bones. Stack on the clavicles. Bones. Bones.
Vault coat spin ornamentation spin coat vault.
Bones. Bones. Stack on the clavicles. Bones. Bones.

Circular scythe scale
Cross wall central blades frontal
Floral wrapped thigh wings Continue reading “Placename Triptych by Kelly Gangeness Le”

August 2018 Guest Editor Is JOHN TREFRY!!! Theme: NON-NONFICTION

Burning House Press are excited to welcome JOHN TREFRY as our seventh guest editor! John will take over editorship of Burning House Press online for the full month of August.

Submissions for John are open from today – 1st August and will remain open until 24th August.

John’s Theme for the month is as follows



Continue reading “August 2018 Guest Editor Is JOHN TREFRY!!! Theme: NON-NONFICTION”


Burning House Press would like to thank July’s Guest Editor Lara Alonso Corona for selecting a fantastic theme in // B O D I E S // – and for all of the endeavour and hard work that has gone into selecting/curating/presenting the contributions received over the month – there was a high volume of submissions and Lara has dealt with the editorial duties and challenges with great grace, diligence and expertise – THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING, LARA!!!

Massive thank you also goes to everyone who contributed to Lara’s theme and continues to send BHP your  writing and art – we are so happy and grateful that you entrust us with your work, thank you!!! xX

Here it is, the B O D I E S edition – every selection in one place for you to read/peruse – enjoy!!! xX Continue reading “B O D I E S // E D I T I O N – SELECTED/CURATED/PRESENTED BY JULY 2018 GUEST EDITOR LARA ALONSO CORONA”

The Only Trans Girl at the Party II by Alison Rumfitt

‘Cause I am not this body
that imprisons me.
-The Mountains Goats, Isaiah 45:23

Cocaine aspect ratio move out I want to see it in full
lonely breakwater, lonely pebblebeach storming
over the underpass like a ghost of a girl knocked by
the wind, cocaine aspect ratio move in to see the detail
on your sullen face, the way your eyes move from
floor, to wall, to door, to garden, to windowpane Continue reading “The Only Trans Girl at the Party II by Alison Rumfitt”

When the Sickness is a Permanent Physical Thing by Gervanna Stephens

Body a fragile thing
burgeoned by words Continue reading “When the Sickness is a Permanent Physical Thing by Gervanna Stephens”

Art + Poetry by nublaccsoul

A pair of paradox, or pandora’s box

We are forgotten yesterdays of tomorrow,
note-booked mementos on thighs time travelled,
back from the future, a few tsha-tsha with flashes
blackouts and gray-matter gashes,
the slurred dance of good memory,
crib-notes on collar-bones,
bare chest, a loose tie, knots, not around neck
formal education white suits, tucked-in remembering.
A formal date chasing me indoors.
chasing me into doors of consistent
nurturing nature of the neuro
doors on the right, left doubt in the cold.
A manner of hindsight sighs. Continue reading “Art + Poetry by nublaccsoul”

Two poems by Alexis Diano Sikorski


when I was first introduced to the whole gender conundrum I tested whether or not I might be a boy by letting the end of my vibrator hang from my vagina and fill my panties with purple plastic. so similar.  Continue reading “Two poems by Alexis Diano Sikorski”

Two poems by Juliette van der Molen

Continue reading “Two poems by Juliette van der Molen”

Number 18 by Paul Hawkins

image1 (2)

1. The Kitchen

Dear Louise,
eight days and nights of the painbirds –
flapping and feeding and shitting voices into me.
I sit, or pace up and down stairs,
or try to lie down,
or hide,
crouching behind the Ikea clothes rail
in our bedroom. Continue reading “Number 18 by Paul Hawkins”

Hot Joints by Laura Motavasseli

Continue reading “Hot Joints by Laura Motavasseli”

Untitled Carpet by John Boursnell

Continue reading “Untitled Carpet by John Boursnell”

Three poems by Betsy Housten


First responder histamine affects the top two
layers of skin, itch races up uncushioned nerves
like a house on fire: one that wants to unzip
its unfortunate human suit and go jump in a lake.
Science, for all its hypotheses, cannot explain Continue reading “Three poems by Betsy Housten”

Two poems by Vanessa Maki

Continue reading “Two poems by Vanessa Maki”

Three poems by Jessica Beyer


Fear the Trees

There were figures in the night who blended with the trees & we could only see their eyes—every shade of violet. They moved when we did. They breathed when we breathed. It was impossible to tell how many surrounded us, or what they wanted. Or maybe they didn’t want. Or maybe they were the trees, just waking up.

Continue reading “Three poems by Jessica Beyer”

Three poems by Myene Yanu


Continue reading “Three poems by Myene Yanu”

a… scare that tricks the mind (half-waking). … (fragments.—of-from a dream-dreams? … ) by Mark Bolsover

a… scare
that tricks the mind (half-waking). …

(fragments.—of-from a dream-dreams? … ). Continue reading “a… scare that tricks the mind (half-waking). … (fragments.—of-from a dream-dreams? … ) by Mark Bolsover”

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