Incest Moon by Henrik Aeshna

porcelain moon glued to my window (pearl-moon stunningly beautiful) you’re an etheric dog a drowning bride resurrecting from an alcoholic coma in a lamplit tulip dress & boreal lipstick          (ectoplasmic moon) or lady godiva high on opium ridin’ a mad star from a faraway dream all the way into my room o my angel moon – rape my eyes then lull me to sleep (jardin du … Continue reading Incest Moon by Henrik Aeshna

Trinkets by Cody Kucker

If you can count your friends on more than one hand, you’re mistaken.                 —Michael G. Kew, 1986-2004 Someone left a walrus, knew you would like a walrus by himself chuffing in the watery flowers, the bob of petunias on granite. A plastic ring bereft of its price-tag adorns a tendril of cast-iron sun staked into the ground, tagged like cattle. It doesn’t move … Continue reading Trinkets by Cody Kucker

Zadie Smith’s Swing Time Is An Undercutting Attack on Stagnation & Surrendering Your Voice to Others

By now, Zadie Smith has long ago come into her own as an author. Her largely autobiographical voice, which has always served her well (particularly with her debut, White Teeth–and, incidentally, Smith pulls a rather Bret Easton Ellis move in that her narrator references going to school with Irie Jones, who also has a Jamaican mother), reaches a more elevated, literary stride with her fifth … Continue reading Zadie Smith’s Swing Time Is An Undercutting Attack on Stagnation & Surrendering Your Voice to Others

Lens & garter by Phillipe Vicente

The cave man foreboding his arrows & bones like a comet, sketches time’s abode. Under the loins of my work I’m measuring. I’m accelerating. I grind & my lenses become other gravity, or lugubrious monarchies. Where Einstein’s wrath pokes the knot time’s noose digitizes & widens not dimensionally, but with the elasticity of biology.  Time’s wrath ticks too kindly. Continue reading Lens & garter by Phillipe Vicente

Legacy by Phillipe Vicente

A dusk stole from an ex-girlfriend, abstracting the breadth and fodder of your mild and precarious affair after the tide of evidence gave a taser to the weekend’s romp. Glories much like eyeliner, the fondness for cash, are the semantics of flesh, how lust sabotages the meditation of the mind, gets folded hands to do the felt thing. You smothered each other just a few … Continue reading Legacy by Phillipe Vicente

“Lesson” by Phillipe Vicente

The bruising was not unlike the fist emerging through the clenched faces, the red of freshly skinned knees, their hot bones white as blank pages. A punch and I dreamed of water and rose patches.  Friends, to whom I’m merely a target and a laugh, kicked me back to life. Their taunts broke me where I dreamed. It was neither school nor prison. I leaned … Continue reading “Lesson” by Phillipe Vicente