By: Ken W Simpson Apathy You can tell an America the truth but you can’t make it think. The Fake Race An elephant in every room smoke and mirrors and clowns dressed as candidates for the presidency of Wall Street….
By: Rex Chilcote Early Morning It’s early in the morning when the only sounds you hear are the hum of the refrigerator and the stray car going down the road. If you are quite, you can hear the divine. Other…
By: Alan Berger It looks like someoneBeen chewing on my noseToo much sunAnd coke I supposeWhere I left my keysWho the Hell knowns?My pants are to bigFor my prick and my assGlass half empty or half fullWhat glass are you…
By: Phillip Knight Scott colors I love you as the night hangs gently from your brow, playing towards a twinkle, determined to turn your lips ( revealing the bliss meant for us) gentle red. I love…
By: Mahala Spillers Terpsichore Leather bound arcane gesture; I feel it on my pulse. As I yield my wrists up to you, Terpishore sways between the air gaps, Busting the pipeline alive for you to hear. Can’t you see that…
By: Ron Riekki There was a guy in divinity school so into Jesus Christ that he kind of made me not believe in God any time I was around him. My neighbors scream the F-word at each other just about…
By: D.S. Kheder Reflection on the Wall When I was thirteen, I sat in front of my mirror, once, twice, too many times, seeking assurance that my reflection still looked pristine. I looked at the girl behind the glass, a…
By: Ria Banerjee Last night I took an overdose of sleeping Pills. My muslin dreams were invaded by nightmares– naked apparitions swarmed like bees to suck my soul as my parched lips craved yours. I dreamt of dungeons and dragons;…
By: Bamidele Aiyejina Like a billion frozen hellos awaiting the warm blanket of a hi, I’ve been kin to the foxtrot of silence, static, & the assaulting images of lapping currents. It is the carcass of dawn and the curious…
By: RC deWinter sick day burning with feverburning with lustsweat dripssizzling on molten sheets ghost spiders crawl corridors of wet skinraising gooseflesh and memories of rusty lips dragged to the cul-de-sac where desire waits for the next bus to oblivion i…