Riding though the green of handsome woods, parting the trees now, comes the Prince and a proudly liveried entourage of only two. The firs there are not packed tightly together, so the riding there is easy, somewhat exhilarating—and there is just enough foliage to get lost in; branches, so that one or two are sure to brush the cheek and leave it stinging lightly with life.
Greek gods and others, by Greg Zorko
ife is torture punctuated by brief
moments of aggressive un-torture. Ask the turtle who had his shell ripped off
slowly and replaced with a plastic one.The Greek gods were like giant Al Jefferson’s who lived on a mountain. Other than that I know little about them. A myth is like a clay bowl that never cracks or leaks. “Bolero” is the Spanish word for a useful repetition.
...READ MORE
Adrian Sobol's... Dear America
Hold us close, your children. We the children of dismantled saints. We the children of uncommon loyalty. We the children of dread melted down & minted. Our pallor is our centerpiece. Our verbs know only past tense: the least sexual of grammatical imperatives. Encoded in our capillaries is a new form of forgiveness. The kind dispensed in gravel. The kind you find in the run of your stockings. I love the little glance of your thigh. A clue to your remainder. A clue I would tongue for hours.
"You will lose me because you are an utterly disobedient lover"
And what you think of as charm has the ring of noxious smut.
I said you were a fountain of fragrant vulgarities
Prompting a river of bare decreeing on the subject of my idiocy,
A charge of pig-headedness fierce enough to turn me porcine.
You will lose me because you drink wine from a bowl,
Because it is like living with the ghost of a failed comedian,
Because my heart only ever leaps with the stiffness
of a woman with two fractured kneecaps.
I declared your lust the cut-out-and-keep kind,
The type I laminate to ward off the itch
of hours in an office chair,
That if you leave I will certainly die a pauper,
Or some Mid-Atlantic panhandler of love song. —Keiran Goddard
Keepin' 'em Down (September 1996)
by Matthew Taub, from Death the Dying City, a novel forthcoming
“Who’s my father?” young Kenneth Johnson said.
“We don’t know,” his mother said.
“Juvenile diabetes,” a worried doctor said.
“Epileptic,” yet another said.
“Take them pills every day,” his mother said.
“It’s a white man’s world,” an uncle said.
“Help Wanted,” the construction sign read.
“You’re hired,” a grisly man said.
“Like this,” a co-worker said.
“Hi,” Shanada said.
“Hi,” he said.
“We don’t know,” his mother said.
“Juvenile diabetes,” a worried doctor said.
“Epileptic,” yet another said.
“Take them pills every day,” his mother said.
“It’s a white man’s world,” an uncle said.
“Help Wanted,” the construction sign read.
“You’re hired,” a grisly man said.
“Like this,” a co-worker said.
“Hi,” Shanada said.
“Hi,” he said.
Four Poems from Greg Zorko
Greek gods
Life is torture punctuated by brief moments of aggressive un-torture. Ask the turtle who had his shell ripped off slowly and replaced with a plastic one.
The Greek gods were like giant Al Jefferson’s who lived on a mountain. Other than that I know little about them. A myth is like a clay bowl that never cracks or leaks. “Bolero” is the Spanish word for a useful repetition.
Detailed Report & Memoir: (Scrying Attempt).
by Shane Jesse Christmass
n the 1900s, optical fibres became
a medium for telecommunications; these fibre lines were strands of glass that
carried gravity, and were involved in attempts to produce a unified field
theory; a theory that explained the three fundamental forces: gravity,
electromagnetism, and the strength of weight under gravity. ...READ MORE
Sonnets by Bruce McRae
1/3. Wonderful Moonlight
The effect of moonshine on water,
like cries of a wood owl or cigar smoke;
like a cushion being primped
or cat treading in new snowfall.
The water wears the face of the moon.
The moon drinks the water, bathes in it,
swims among its milky currents.
It’s enough to make a fox laugh,
moonlight skimming along a surface;
like an ice-skater on a frozen canal
or a cold blade being dragged
through the warm ashes of human remains.
Like a virgin’s skirt being lifted,
as she weeps, high over her head.
The effect of moonshine on water,
like cries of a wood owl or cigar smoke;
like a cushion being primped
or cat treading in new snowfall.
The water wears the face of the moon.
The moon drinks the water, bathes in it,
swims among its milky currents.
It’s enough to make a fox laugh,
moonlight skimming along a surface;
like an ice-skater on a frozen canal
or a cold blade being dragged
through the warm ashes of human remains.
Like a virgin’s skirt being lifted,
as she weeps, high over her head.
Batman vs. Wolverine by Shane Langnes
Three years of planning, one reconstructive surgery, and a mutated warlord left Batman with one hell of a grudge. The man only known as Wolverine had certainly done a number on the dark knight, when he showed up with evidence that a five man heist that had gone wrong in Gotham had ties to him. His perfect plan, unraveled by a simple receipt.
Detailed Report & Memoir: (Scrying Attempt). by Shane Jesse Christmass
In the 1900s, optical fibres became a medium for telecommunications; these fibre lines were strands of glass that carried gravity, and were involved in attempts to produce a unified field theory; a theory that explained the three fundamental forces: gravity, electromagnetism, and the strength of weight under gravity.
Did You Drink the Paint, John? by Ryan P. Kennedy
ou think the grocery is a fact of
life, but it’s not. You know they use paint instead of milk in cereal
commercials? To make it look delicious, to give it maximum appeal. They know,
these commercial guys fucking know. I know, too. Me and the commercial guys know
the truth. Knowing is only a chemical reaction in the brain, it’s like its own
secret language. ...READ MORE
“Philosophy” by M. Krockmalnik Grabois
I was mopping floors in a deli
when I should have been
completing my philosophy degree
I used to argue philosophical points
with a teaching assistant named Witherspoon
in a large high ceilinged room
on the top floor of the Humanities building
He had a beard and long hair
chain-smoked unfiltered Camels
held them between thumb and forefinger
til he nearly burned himself
He was from Kentucky and had a strong accent
I liked everything about him
when I should have been
completing my philosophy degree
I used to argue philosophical points
with a teaching assistant named Witherspoon
in a large high ceilinged room
on the top floor of the Humanities building
He had a beard and long hair
chain-smoked unfiltered Camels
held them between thumb and forefinger
til he nearly burned himself
He was from Kentucky and had a strong accent
I liked everything about him
“Man in the Gutter” by Jonas Kyle-Sidell
I crawl
out
and up
God, that sunlight
Shimmy
to the air, asphalt.
Oh! that sky.
out
and up
God, that sunlight
Shimmy
to the air, asphalt.
Oh! that sky.
Did You Drink the Paint, John? by Ryan P. Kennedy
You think the grocery is a fact of life, but it’s not. You know they use paint instead of milk in cereal commercials? To make it look delicious, to give it maximum appeal. They know, these commercial guys fucking know. I know, too. Me and the commercial guys know the truth. Knowing is only a chemical reaction in the brain, it’s like its own secret language.