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Pen Pal by Ian Horner

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Oh I forgot your name (آه من نامت را فراموش کردم) by Soodabeh Saeidnia


Always there are
Lots of questions
In memory of
My poetry
With a big
Exclamation mark
At the end
Means continued
همواره
سوالات بسیاری
در خاطره شعر من
جاریست
بهمراه یک نشان تعجب
در پایان
یعنی ادامه دارد

Blue G's No more fibs, music knows her game:

Hymns being sung in churches
While christened babies wail,
Blue rhapsodies at full blast in the bookshops

HIM by Sumiko Chadwell

The stale water sleeping on the counter
purple flowers racing the dungeon of pine
a bowl of stale almonds suffocating my brain
the empty soap bottle tearing my muscles

but the china cabinet with pens and paper
the soul shaper...

“Mother” by Lauren Keil


My mother taught me how to braid

my hair.

She showed me how to part,
how the three plaits showed my ordinarily hidden
hazel strands so well.
I changed with her eyes
and grew up
the apotheosis of her drowsy motherhood.

She admired the order of things,
of laundry, of toys, of dishes,
of children in their element.

W.F. Roby 's That's not me in your picture, there, Jerry.

I hadn’t done her, not this morning. I was gonna do her in the afternoon when I got good and tight. Well what do you mean where I was? I went walking… we went walking back up the county road because Nutsy’s face was all a-shambles, with his jaw out like this, out to here. We didn’t even have the dope.