My doctor speaks. I hear garbled vowels and consonants chewed into small bits and pushed around his mouth like smashed pieces of marbles.
He stutters then vomits. Words tumble from his lips, broken thoughts which should have been left unsaid. I close my eyes, afraid of seeing more, fearful of taking in too deep a breath. Continue reading “On a Visit to the Doctor by Arlene Antoinette”
Tonight and every night she was the moon
listening beyond the frequency
tomorrow she was a Tuesday I dream
of touching, reaching a wingbone Continue reading “Moonstruck on an Upswing by Sarah Wallis”
The kitchen is cold. Except by this floor vent. That’s why the table is so close to it.
The kitchen is dark too. Just lit by the lamp on the other table. Across the room.
It’s only five-fifteen, but it’s getting dark so early now. And I’ve shrunk, too,
with the winter days. It’s pointless to even try to get anything done. Continue reading “The Lord’s Suicide by Tony Gary”
Smiles are fake
And this isn’t paradise
We’re stubborn and cold
Counting working bars on the electric heater
And sputtering, drinking whiskey, to warm our
Bodies and we remain indifferent in conversations
Which shouldn’t make it passed these thick walls.
Continue reading “Train Wrecks by Mark McConville”
I like to travel
but I don’t like
what I like
is living in places,
and turning them
and getting to know it,
the way they say the locals
Continue reading “Microwaved meals in little rooms somewhere by D.S. Maolalai”
A whirlwind wails over barren, dusty carcasses;
Cavalry of ranked tombstones stretch over the graveyard
and shade over the dry, scorched sand. They mourn
the bodies cleared of soul, buried in the sand, unnamed;
Weep over the lost ones and grieve those who will not be born.
Such is the cost, measured and inevitable, of the past that is lost. Continue reading “Death is a thief by Aldas Krūminis”
My masterpiece is growing stale,
And I am sadly feeling soulless
In this world of two sided swords
My mark is rubbing off, like flaked paint,
And the coffee is cold in my shaky hand.
Continue reading “Silence is Bliss by Mark McConville”