(CNN) A beach that was washed away by storms more than 30 years ago has reappeared off the west coast of Ireland. The sands at Dooagh on County Mayo’s Achill Island vanished in the winter of 1984, leaving nothing but bare rock and rock pools. But over the course of a few days in April 2017, the Atlantic returned what it had stolen, depositing thousands … Continue reading The Prodigal Beach Speaks by Joe McAvoy
Notice the Pope’swhite skin beneath the red velvet robe.Contemplate the thin papery silhouetteof Italian hands touching himself –sometimes lovingly smoothing fingertipsof the right handover his perfect belly. God has called him whilehe drifts toward sleep andthe kingdom of his dreams –a sometimes white world of goodnessmade salient from the footprints leftby tiny angels, the ones who have dancedacross the filigree of his indefectiblebatiste shirtsangels who have … Continue reading Brethren by Hunter Boone
Plasticized card says:you belong Blonde beaches, Irish bars,gray skied smokestacks shivering winters, damp springs,melted sunrises, purring air —People among you walkwith folded lanterns, loud saris, pulsating fiesta sound waves, cloaked in hijab, mangling holy French,reeking of curry and cologne —Drooping Frankish eyes lament – Things are now different Continue reading Status Threat by Peter Crowley
I was too warm my legs were restless I wasn’t tired I was too tired but eventually sleep came and quickly I came to it the engine of the nightmare pistons of fear the lubricating oil of hope keeping the nightmare alive I wanted to wake I tried to wake I couldn’t wake the nightmare twitched I tried to wake I couldn’t wake Continue reading Having A Nightmare At 43 by Steve Denehan
As a man, you might have pressed or clicked on this article’s title a little bit harder than usual. Maybe you opened this tab thinking, “great, another misandrist bitch insulting us.” Truly, I am flattered by the attention—after all, isn’t this what women thrive off of? More seriously, I am glad you are here, reading these lines. All jokes aside, we can all agree on … Continue reading Congratulations, you are a sexual offender! by Inès Giudici
Don’tSpeak. Let’s Drink. Let’s Have A shot. Let’s Not GetCaught, In These SeaweedTowers, Or These Crawling Cities, With Their Drowning Cars, And Their Busy BodyMen, With Their Bright Lies, In their Swimming Pools OfDirt, And their Tentacles Of Thought. No.That All Serves Us Nought. Just Sucks Us Dry, Until We die. Let’s Not Have That. Let’s Order, Jack! Let’s HaveA chin-chinTo Apollo’s Grin, That Heals And Mocks, All That’s Within. Let’s Have One more, Let’s Land On some Shore, Where Dolphins Sing,Instead Of swim, And Lions Purr,Instead Of Roar, Let’s Embark, For the Ark, To thatCrazy Park. …Let’s Have A…Sancerre, Pretend We don’t Care. …Do you Hear That Croon? Life Out Of Tune? HearThat whipOf Wings? Good. NowSee it Salute, To that Mad,Champagne Flute. Let’s have Another! Let us Not Bother, With OurGrowing Past JustSee, How It Grasps! Like An infant,OrA Child,It Demands Us Entire. …Aww,Don’tYou Love Melancholy, How It Breaks The Monotony, How it Warms The…TimeLike Afine Wine? No!We shallNot Be … Continue reading Let’s Drink by O’ar Pali
It’s a Belmondo day, a morning À bout de souffle — “The Girl” giving away AM New York mumbles French. Disjunct, the sun, double- jointed like a thumb, traces ellipse, bound to the earth by suspicion, uncertain whereabouts, up to something no doubt, lost in thought. But now the tissue of clouds as illusion tears, letting color there be light, sound deafen exposure of black … Continue reading Simulacrum by John Jack Jackie (Edward) Cooper
This too, they say, will pass but will it passlike morning mistbecoming summer’s day or will it passlike a desert mirageendlessly slippingaway Continue reading This Too by Rufo Quintavalle
He took the passport from my hand, stared at it, then me, then it, then me again. A little booklet with blank pages, my butterfly-sated stomach – the perfect couple. “Welcome to the USA,” he finally snarled. He stamped my passport. He as good as stamped me. Continue reading A Girl and Her Passport by Juanita Rey
That winter split me like firewood. I was smaller,splintered, Elliott Smith would play on cassette in my blue Volkswagenwhile our breath coursed through flared nostrils and damaged lungs. *I hid my pain like a sick dog. I slinkedout, under the back deck, I swallowed some pills.In those hideous places I can still smell the acrid, peaty heat of your breath, reeking like remorse. *But even though you swore that you left I … Continue reading Muted Mixtape by Layla Lenhardt
