In the Robot museum there are heads under glass. There are wires and mesh and silver and fingers that once tried to choke a wind pipe. There are eyeballs rolling around in a glass bowl. There is a whole armoire of batteries. Cords hang from Gallery # 3 in droves, like white and gray intestines. There are circuits, hinges, and arms in the gift … Continue reading “Robot (museum)” by Jenny MacBain-Stephens
The robot does not understand boundaries or limitations or how to being anything other than what it is programed to do, really. He (it) understands commands. Do this do this this. Do. If there is no underlying current of passion behind an action than a command is meaningless. He (it) must be dying for it. But how can I tell when he (it) does not … Continue reading “Robot (sex part I)” by Jenny MacBain-Stephens
Is it a mystery ungulate illness or exploding chemicals from Russian test rockets? I look for you in the space between the window screen and eternity. So many particles I cannot name them yet they add up to cold fusion. Your bizarre bulging eyes roam the Kazakhstan tundra. I am no wolf. Is it something in the water? No human rides your antelope back … Continue reading “Saiga” by Jenny MacBain-Stephens
Rain covered his bones Instead of flesh so when we met in dingy rooms I was swallowing storms and lakes ran from my fingers after everything I groped I could never forget lightning screaming from his eyes torrents when I picked up a battered suitcase containing the dreaded “nomad heart” And, his teeth, a perpetual grin the floodgates I feared would never open to bear … Continue reading “Rain Covered His Bones” by Manuela Williams
I need a vacation from my mind. I’m too old to still be so hard on myself. When I was a young woman I didn’t give a shit, no regrets… Maybe I’m still young. No I ain’t. Did I ever enjoy being a child? Nope. And it wasn’t like any horrible shit happened to me, I was just always in a rush to grow up. … Continue reading “…Yep.” by Malik Crumpler
