I welcome myself into gardens of strangers,
slipping past them as fluidly as sound.
The joggers kick my temples with their sweat.
The veiled women dress like burning cities.

Slipping past them as fluidly as sound,
my brain dry heaves at how
the veiled women dress. Like burning cities,
I am the remains of something beautiful.

My brain dry heaves at how
there was a time when it wasn't so stagnant.

An E. M. Forster paperback in the library had caused a bit of a stir among the Uprights. What other designation suited them better? Arrogant, heterosexual bastards. Never cowered nor bent. Proud and blissful in the glory of tradition wherein they nestled in the opposite gender’s pants. Their spines formed that menacing “S” which imitated a cobra with its spread hood, when observed from the side.

The Manor by Ammanford Art

“SHE'S done what?” he laughed at the voice on the other end of the line, I could only guess what the reply was but the pubs were busy and I was thirsty so I didn’t hang around. When I got to the Borough Arms Shelly was serving so I got a pint of Hells Bells and stood by the bar next to Big Dave. “Alright Dave, how’s the training going?”
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There was once a point—not like a point of singularity crushing beautifully down on itself within hungry darkness, though there are troves of truth to that more visible than the light incapable of escape from that singular point, perhaps even more applicable overall;—but, no, this point is like darts thrown at a map and the random perforations it generated, these later marked with push pins and later still strung up with thread roadmapping tangles from point to point, looking more like veins than (perceived) relation between each thumbtack-violated perforation it was supposed to somehow reveal—a point in the stillness of gaps between breath and gasps (not so different after all) that bled like a dull brass polished over and over and over to extract a shine, stripping away layers of (perceived) grime that, by this point, had become true skin.

“Now that we are out here away from the prattle of the city, and have a big yard, we should get a birdfeeder,” said Zania. “Good idea, for once we will actually be able to see and hear the birds, not like back home where you can’t tell a car horn from the brass band at the Pentecostal church. I’ll pick one up tomorrow, there’s a beam right there that we can hang it from, and I’ll bet all these birds that fly past our yard will stop off for a snack,” agreed Jason.

I get it, I swear I do.
A boy is a body into your past,
I smile and my father and his father fall out of my mouth.

I ate the shame around my grandparents' dinner table,
watching small caskets go by through rosy partitions.

wormwood dropped to earth and cracked and bled.
like the sidewalk, and the suicidal head
rolling limp

Don’t let the goat out
that cage keeps it safe.

The man hoped the truth would come to him in a dream. He considered that he had tried to learn the truth many times. He had reflected on what was true of him and settled for that the truest thing he could say of himself was that he was quiet and thoughtful. He was bookish as well but this did not seem essential. Even less essential seemed what he did for work since he had disliked it recently.

“She’s done what?” he laughed at the voice on the other end of the line, I could only guess what the reply was but the pubs were busy and I was thirsty so I didn’t hang around. When I got to the Borough Arms Shelly was serving so I got a pint of Hells Bells and stood by the bar next to Big Dave.

“Alright Dave, how’s the training going?”

I Ate. by John McKernan

All the spiders
In my father’s coffin

All the termites
In the oak casket
Of my mother
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If my feet won't hit this  what will i be who will i see intown all around i see wrothless me can't go under sea but 3 grease with 4 lease under G L be around me can't mean again with in work expedient high grown inter conk see my mind flow with only little experience must feel in reenter to point if pree the to a game of heart must say way high mind speak volmum never concept but tour was of inbomb

Do You Know Me

I was walking in the Café
Sat down, at the table
Watching outside the right window

she drove
me
abolsultly
            mad
mad
cuz she liked
to dance
and her
breath stunk