The Sandman To bring her sleep, the sandmanmust seal her eyelids withpoppy seed gathered in the west,smear her body with dust,as if preparing a corpsefor a long voyage.She who remembers everythingtravels through the nightwithout burial gifts to easethe discomfort of oblivion.Mourning is not an arrival,but rather a displacement,a recollection of days to come,devoid of both … Continue reading “The Sandman” – “(untitled)” – “Dimension” – “House”
-- This is an excerpt from the 16 poem booklet by Djordje Matic, published by Xanthous Press.
Crosses When I die I won't, that's what they swear toat church and Sunday School and I'm ten yearsold or they say ten years young so whatdo I know that they don't but even soif I don't know much I don't know some ofit a lot, I mean I do know a bitbut know it … Continue reading “Crosses” – “Infinite Mercy, Etc.” – “Fix” – “No one lives forever they promise at” – “Pepperoni”
AN AGGRESSIVE VOID Because coyote this strange metamorphosis welcome -- J.I. Kleinberg’s poems have been published in print and online journals worldwide. An artist, poet, freelance writer, and three-time Pushcart and Best of the Net nominee, she lives in Bellingham, Washington, USA, and on Instagram @jikleinberg.
Late harvests It was this time of year when leavesare ripe with air and sun,when from the sting of sadness heavesthe breast that smolders stun; and soon the dullness wrapped the earth;and soon the dampness oozedon brows from pallid sights the dearthof hope in hearts infused. The fruits were quietly amassedof years of grinding teeth,and … Continue reading “Late harvests” – “Wages of sin” – “Right in the middle” – “Passageways”
I. Love I feel the tide moving inunder my sheetsthe swelling of my organsthis daimon pushing, pulling,as I keep breathing,back and forth. II. Progeny I have a silvery daughter,I plucked her from a birch treewhen the moon was newDuring the night she turns into a foxShe is of my kindAs she roams the forestshe makes … Continue reading “Danse macabre”
SUNSHINE BE GoNE GOnE GONe Old Ugly Alfred held his hand outside from the twelfth story bathroom window. "Sunshine be gone gone gone, baby!" and sunshine was nowhere to be seen nor found. Somewhere underneath the rocky moon, pie-land claims me not until I come back from the city streets to shower off this inky … Continue reading “SUNSHINE BE GoNE GOnE GONe” – “WHY the hell DOES your PEE SMELL so BAD?”
Obsession Hang yourself... The Eternal... Procrustes' stunt -- Laszlo Aranyi (Frater Azmon) is a poet, anarchist, occultist from Hungary. Earlier books: (szellem)válaszok, A Nap és Holderők egyensúlya . New: Kiterített rókabőr. English poems published: Quail Bell Magazine, Lumin Journal, Moonchild Magazine, Scum Gentry Magazine, Pussy Magic, The Zen Space, Crêpe & Penn, Briars Lit, Acclamation … Continue reading “Obsession” – “Hang yourself…” – “The Eternal…” – “Procrustes’ stunt”
image by Tom Will My mustache tastes of cigarettesAn egg with salt, alone in the moonI wake up three days distanced from youYour lassos of hair bowering me, aloneMy room lassoed, a red balloon in the shower lassoedMy three days of loneliness walking the state fair aloneAll things lassoed, your hair wrapped around my big … Continue reading “In Cold Blood Moon”
Helios In Amber Vera hears the whispering through the windows long before she gathers the strength to get out of bed. She crawls through the dark house, towards the hostile murmurs. So close to the floorboards, she can hear His sad, ragged breath. The neighbours are crowding below her kitchen window. Vera does not see … Continue reading Helios In Amber & “Jupiter Scarred”