The first time I lost faith and magic in the world was at the end of my first relationshipTables were thrown on the floor and guns pointed at himBroken were all of my toys. Shattered old technology on the floorA lamp, dead. VacillatingMy eyes, panicked and madYou, unpleasant then, shattered I swear I’m fighting with the day as itSlips away from me. Continue reading Human Relationships by Noémie Zumer
Buried deep in the womb of this soil rolling around a dead woodworm I’m nested eyes heavy with sleep Yesterday I brimmed with the froth of youth it burst from my breast spewed stars leaking galaxies And I would wrap eager fools into my folds I rushed through them with a windburn meant to sting It didn’t take a master of the universe to spear … Continue reading The Withering Nymph by Donna Dallas
There is no “ideal” symbolism when it comes to the monkey as a portent. Sure, Chinese culture speculates that the monkey is a sign of good luck, but when it comes to their inherently mischievous nature, come to roost in 2016, the Year of the Monkey, it’s not something one wants around during an election year. This much is ruminated upon in Patti Smith’s latest … Continue reading In Patti Smith’s Year of the Monkey, 2016 Was Always Doomed Before It Began
Climb into my microwave oven and you will discoveracres of karstpiled up by the window,resting in congregational piety. Trample the dust underan unbridled wave of convenience,swelling to new aspirations at every last catalogue entry. Cling to the good and the evil alike,not halting for strangers, nor pleasantto foes of the rising contention.Spring to the east, and let none of your confidence falter or slip from your finger.Let … Continue reading Try by Stephen Waldron
With your cameras you can filmthe recent tragic massacreas grotesque slow-motion ballet,the would-be victims’ faces at last sincere with awe and terror,a post-modern late-decadentRococo. You can man a stationon our moon that has no air, weak gravity, days and nights each 13 days and half a day, the silver mercury dropping five hundred degrees Fahrenheit but glance at Earth and you recallyou’re safe. You can do all kinds … Continue reading Fugitives by Nels Hanson
December 16, 1974. Woody Allen is fast rising in the film industry on his own terms, then most freshly with 1973’s Sleeper, which would establish 1) his inimitable screenplay concepts and 2) an enduring artistic partnership (after a romantic one from 1970 to 1971) with Diane Keaton for the rest of the 70s that would lead to the immortal Annie Hall. Having already gotten his … Continue reading The Chauvinism of Woody Allen’s “The Whore of Mensa”
I was born on a starship namedThe Zest for Life. We touched downin a dark wood near a sparkling fallssurrounded by quicksand alivewith jousting hermit crabs.I empathize. The book of policiesis online, and you will winwhen you finally search for the correct term. Everyone speaks in lines you have heard in a court drama. No one will agree about what they mean or how to interpret any action. You will not … Continue reading I Am Not Your Therapist by Caroline Maun
1 The queries of our age demand to know much more than we will ever know or admiteven to ourselves. Our beleaguered figures on display, curios of these corridors, inspire probing. Invasion comes without explanation. Off the charts. Our images chronicle calcified fractures of the past, record the minimalist chatter of present now drained of remembrance and aspiration. Pressed between rock and hard place, airless and indisposed like miners trapped in a cave, we … Continue reading Between Rock and Hard Place by Victor Marrero
It’s 2019 and I’m so rich I don’t hurt anymore I have an unlimited metrocard and the new romper from everlane and some really nice ravioli I ate the ravioli last night each bite costs $5I sent a tweet about political correctness and tried not to act vain If anyone’s out there do I really have to keep doing this? I found myself in a different life a world where you never got up and went to work before mewhere you retired before you … Continue reading Poem by Emily Costantino
Because he soughtat all coststo be free he ended upwith nothing because she soughtsecurity she endedup alone because we bought into the lie that you can movethroughlife and neverhurtanother soul we found ourselveson islandscursing the birds above usthat crossacross the sky Continue reading Islands by Rufo Quintavalle
