The City of Babylon and How it Burns Blight on the neighborhood. I’ve kerosened the manor. All of my good will has gone. The whole pack of bucking horses, my stallions wetted, mares in heat. Come! The machine men! Steamroll to jelly, into paste, into glue. Gimme! Unburden unto me your confessionals, I’ll lick the … Continue reading “THE CITY OF BABYLON AND HOW IT BURNS” – “THE RAPTURE INFINITE DANCE-A-THON”
I’m a sky fucking barbarian slumming in paradiseBlue cowboy shirt and beard blowing in the windLard ass mercy A doctor can't fix this faceAsk one of my doppelgangers about my dayIt’s I who got the pills bestial bestial fever chillsThree and three and three lord baby prisoners be free — James C Springintveld is an … Continue reading “APRIL 24 2022”
an ordinary couple who, with affectless involvementand preternatural facility, strip each otherof their lower garments from opposite sidesof a table with their tight-socked feetand bring themselves bothto climax using the sameduring tea and some ritualmorning reading - incipit: her left heel massaging his cock to grow - her head carryingher eyes to the ceiling whenever … Continue reading “SCREENPLAY 01”
— Stephanie Yue Duhem is writing out of Austin, TX. She can be found online at www.sydpoetry.com.
Outside You are the red leaf, the dry, dead red leaf:when it is gone into dust, you are gone.You are the shadow in the street, looking upto be let in; out there, angry, alone. You have no father, sister or brother.You took them away from yourself one day:The moon stood in the air beside the … Continue reading “OUTSIDE” – “AFTER THE LAST MINUTE”
This golden cross about my neck,This silver ring around my thumb.In shining metals I’m bedeckedUntil the days of flames here come. Of tarnished copper is my soul,Of poison lead I made my mind.These elements compose my whole,With every pro, a con is rhymed. If only I were but a treeAnd made of Boniface’s wood,I’d burn … Continue reading “WHAT I AM”
And so the reaches1 to which castaway affects aspire to niche-hood2 also reign in according to Kant.3 Of course the empire is on fire and joblessness is at an all-time low; there is no house big enough for us all and no one is trying to smash worry into beauty and tomorrow; it’s almost all. … Continue reading “2022.02”
Wounds of phosphor, wounds ofred jam smears.Swords of golden crosses, swords ofbroken seashells.Words of wrecked teeth, words ofvelvet serpents.Gears of clocks, gears of offshorecannonade that blow holes in bodies, makes wounds of phosphor,wounds ofred jam smears. -- John Tustin’s poetry has appeared in many disparate literary journals since 2009. fritzware.com/johntustinpoetry contains links to his published poetry online.
A Scavenger's Song I met a man who worked the plain like me,Who farmed the fruits of human ingenuity,And I tattooed him in my brain with dotted lines for cuts of meat. //We sat together, compared notes,On men who bleat and fall like goats.His head was tufted, poorly-weeded hair, hisEyes were clear and beautiful, irises … Continue reading SONGS FOR THE IRREGULARS
Somewhere across the great plains of the world,an antelope is galloping away.He runs, and has been running for all time;and many a predator has tried its handat landing claws in that elusive hide.They seem to pass straight through and meet in prayer,the paws that clap together in his wake.Those killers are reduced to cats, brought … Continue reading “PRAYER”