The Fold by Chris Butler
Society
attempted to fold me
in square creases
into the mold
of all other scraps of paper
shaped into origami swans,
but like all of the fallen trees,
I’d rather rot.
attempted to fold me
in square creases
into the mold
of all other scraps of paper
shaped into origami swans,
but like all of the fallen trees,
I’d rather rot.
Smokes by Ryan Quinn Flanagan
The many teenagers
out front the corner convenience
want me to buy them
smokes.
They appeal to my vanity
make me feel young again
anything to get them
smokes.
A few of the girls
make eyes
rub my shoulder
as if paedophilia
took a holiday.
Unfortunately
for them
I am good.
Fortified
as any
wine.
Having jerked off eight times
in the past twenty-six
hours
(a new land speed
record)
I desire a bag of pork rinds
and a 2 litre
Coke
and no longer
them.
out front the corner convenience
want me to buy them
smokes.
They appeal to my vanity
make me feel young again
anything to get them
smokes.
A few of the girls
make eyes
rub my shoulder
as if paedophilia
took a holiday.
Unfortunately
for them
I am good.
Fortified
as any
wine.
Having jerked off eight times
in the past twenty-six
hours
(a new land speed
record)
I desire a bag of pork rinds
and a 2 litre
Coke
and no longer
them.
Map of wanton Omaha by James Diaz
All fall
the entire horse hair
moving
its blue bone prayer
the blur in your voice
is a borrowed thing
not even five dollars
will mother you
the next station
is a crippled man/woman
with child rearing phantom hips
lost in a bout
of 48 years, non-living
sentient blindness
cool even
the way a person hands
you a piece of their soul
smiling
'I too, am lost in that desert'
lesson #1, do not
trust that the world
will continue to be there
every time you open your eyes.
the entire horse hair
moving
its blue bone prayer
the blur in your voice
is a borrowed thing
not even five dollars
will mother you
the next station
is a crippled man/woman
with child rearing phantom hips
lost in a bout
of 48 years, non-living
sentient blindness
cool even
the way a person hands
you a piece of their soul
smiling
'I too, am lost in that desert'
lesson #1, do not
trust that the world
will continue to be there
every time you open your eyes.
Two Poems by John Grey
THE WOMAN WHO FELL FROM THE BRIDGE
the crowd can’t get enough
of that female corpse
being dragged from the river –
if you slapped that
grisly green flesh
on a plate before them
they’d gorge on the misfortune
like vultures
then piss in their own mouths
to wash it down
unless, of course,
it’s someone they know –
then they’d be sated enough
for having pushed her.
WHERE IT LEAKS
The leaking tap
seems important at the time.
Despite my struggles with, wrench and washer,
my failure drip drip drips out of the faucet.
On TV, more sick, more dying.
A nun lifts up a frail arm,
thin as a plumber's snake.
On that tell-all screen,
the world is never more repulsive.
Children with concave chests, bloated bellies.
Lepers. A young girl's botched circumcision.
An old man sunk in a mire of sores.
Almost forget the leaking tap
in all this misery.
But it's insistent.
Hard to believe a tiny drop of water
can beat the basin like a bass drum.
The tap never does get fixed.
Likewise the world.
The newscast, at least,
can turn to weather and sports.
No idea who won.
Only that it rained in my house.
the crowd can’t get enough
of that female corpse
being dragged from the river –
if you slapped that
grisly green flesh
on a plate before them
they’d gorge on the misfortune
like vultures
then piss in their own mouths
to wash it down
unless, of course,
it’s someone they know –
then they’d be sated enough
for having pushed her.
WHERE IT LEAKS
The leaking tap
seems important at the time.
Despite my struggles with, wrench and washer,
my failure drip drip drips out of the faucet.
On TV, more sick, more dying.
A nun lifts up a frail arm,
thin as a plumber's snake.
On that tell-all screen,
the world is never more repulsive.
Children with concave chests, bloated bellies.
Lepers. A young girl's botched circumcision.
An old man sunk in a mire of sores.
Almost forget the leaking tap
in all this misery.
But it's insistent.
Hard to believe a tiny drop of water
can beat the basin like a bass drum.
The tap never does get fixed.
Likewise the world.
The newscast, at least,
can turn to weather and sports.
No idea who won.
Only that it rained in my house.
Getting out of the fuzzy place by David E. Howerton
Fog covered, and cool day starts
stay up late, eyes gummy, still tired.
Just as some News copter
passes overhead
more annoying than morning rush.
Run fingers through graying hair
start coffee brewing.
If I'd been out there
I'd have given
a one finger salute.
stay up late, eyes gummy, still tired.
Just as some News copter
passes overhead
more annoying than morning rush.
Run fingers through graying hair
start coffee brewing.
If I'd been out there
I'd have given
a one finger salute.
girl in blinding pink boob tube by Michael Ashley
the flies come and go
buzzing around
it's a virtue the bastards
can't tear up — patience
& eventually the bin lid
will lift — smell the rot
the little blighters feed
then leave as quickly
as they came
buzzing around
it's a virtue the bastards
can't tear up — patience
& eventually the bin lid
will lift — smell the rot
the little blighters feed
then leave as quickly
as they came
Two Poems by Christopher Mulrooney
mall
formerly in the District of Columbia now a makeshift
ersatz thing powered by electrons from the son of a bitch
gird your loins before you enter they pat you down you know
and feel you up put things where you don’t want ‘em etc.
the tour guides all have unfeeling faces meant to look agreeable
and no doubt but that is the face at the other end living
news
it comes on a tickertape you tear off to read an item
x-ray delta reports tom gib rumble oh dark hundred
well got have them eh next daisy mae weds rube
flash charlotte russe had by all shazam what a titbit
framboise cerise writes on the fashion world latest thing bell jar that
formerly in the District of Columbia now a makeshift
ersatz thing powered by electrons from the son of a bitch
gird your loins before you enter they pat you down you know
and feel you up put things where you don’t want ‘em etc.
the tour guides all have unfeeling faces meant to look agreeable
and no doubt but that is the face at the other end living
news
it comes on a tickertape you tear off to read an item
x-ray delta reports tom gib rumble oh dark hundred
well got have them eh next daisy mae weds rube
flash charlotte russe had by all shazam what a titbit
framboise cerise writes on the fashion world latest thing bell jar that
Two Poems by Mitchell Krockmalnik Grabois
Grunge
Kindly SHUT UP
about the grunge
under my fingernails
That’s one way I express myself
tell the world who I am
Self-same my grimy teeth
face with no make-up
except for the red lipstick I smear wildly
around my mouth
These are my ways of being me
avenues the psycho-pharmaceuticals cannot travel
Army
booze
drugs
domestic violence
on the Rez
Finally decided I’m no whipping post
no ultimate scapegoat for
European genocide
The only out I could see
was the Army
Then I could be on the violent side
giving not taking
punishing Al Quaida for what they did
What my enemy’s capable of
I know
No Iraqi will ever
come in my barracks in the
middle of the night
and try to rape me and choke me
to death
Kindly SHUT UP
about the grunge
under my fingernails
That’s one way I express myself
tell the world who I am
Self-same my grimy teeth
face with no make-up
except for the red lipstick I smear wildly
around my mouth
These are my ways of being me
avenues the psycho-pharmaceuticals cannot travel
Army
booze
drugs
domestic violence
on the Rez
Finally decided I’m no whipping post
no ultimate scapegoat for
European genocide
The only out I could see
was the Army
Then I could be on the violent side
giving not taking
punishing Al Quaida for what they did
What my enemy’s capable of
I know
No Iraqi will ever
come in my barracks in the
middle of the night
and try to rape me and choke me
to death
Three Poems by Mike Meraz
Last night
I talked
Too much
To a girl
In my
Bed
There was a
Point when
I knew
I should just
Shut
Up
And kiss
Her
Which
Led
To
Another
Conversation.
__________________
At least
The
Emptiness
Is not
Filled
With
Something
I do not
Want
Emptiness
Is not
Always
A bad
Thing
It is
Sometimes
Mass
Potential.
___________________
She says
Let me see
If you can
Hold my
Weight
She lays
On top
Of me
Horizontally
She is at
Least
140 lbs
Of
Love.
I talked
Too much
To a girl
In my
Bed
There was a
Point when
I knew
I should just
Shut
Up
And kiss
Her
Which
Led
To
Another
Conversation.
__________________
At least
The
Emptiness
Is not
Filled
With
Something
I do not
Want
Emptiness
Is not
Always
A bad
Thing
It is
Sometimes
Mass
Potential.
___________________
She says
Let me see
If you can
Hold my
Weight
She lays
On top
Of me
Horizontally
She is at
Least
140 lbs
Of
Love.
Three Poems by Scott Thomas Outlar
Sweet Sexy Mythology
It starts
as a little
white spot
on the inside
of the cheek
barely reachable
by the tongue
but enough
to know
something is wrong
It grows
over the months
at a snail’s pace
but with a bulging grace
that spreads the tumor
throughout the flesh
to the gums
and the blood
and the deep parts
of the mind
that worry
over the mass
that is surely
not benign
The cancer erupts
with laughter
saying, “I’ve got you”
but not realizing
it’s a suicide mission
It’s ok
there are virgins waiting in Heaven
Taoist Shit
A ragged cough
begins to sound
the same as an orgasm
after enough cycles
of dualistic life and death
have played out
and all the primal noises
prick the same synapses
in the mind
It’s All So Stupid
Everyone is poisoned
by opinions.
Everyone has beliefs
that are complete
bullshit,
but they’re so implanted and infirmed
in their life patterns
that they can’t even recognize
the habit energies at all.
I’m sure I have my own,
so I’m not
just a fool
casting stones
blindly.
I watch these people
with their stupid opinions
regurgitate, rant and rave
about this or that,
and I guess
in the end
I really am
just one of them
because all I seem to do
is opine
about how filthy
and festering
and fucked up
all these fools are.
I guess my opinion is
that everyone
is a failure,
so I might as well
go for first prize
by running my mouth
more than anyone.
It starts
as a little
white spot
on the inside
of the cheek
barely reachable
by the tongue
but enough
to know
something is wrong
It grows
over the months
at a snail’s pace
but with a bulging grace
that spreads the tumor
throughout the flesh
to the gums
and the blood
and the deep parts
of the mind
that worry
over the mass
that is surely
not benign
The cancer erupts
with laughter
saying, “I’ve got you”
but not realizing
it’s a suicide mission
It’s ok
there are virgins waiting in Heaven
Taoist Shit
A ragged cough
begins to sound
the same as an orgasm
after enough cycles
of dualistic life and death
have played out
and all the primal noises
prick the same synapses
in the mind
It’s All So Stupid
Everyone is poisoned
by opinions.
Everyone has beliefs
that are complete
bullshit,
but they’re so implanted and infirmed
in their life patterns
that they can’t even recognize
the habit energies at all.
I’m sure I have my own,
so I’m not
just a fool
casting stones
blindly.
I watch these people
with their stupid opinions
regurgitate, rant and rave
about this or that,
and I guess
in the end
I really am
just one of them
because all I seem to do
is opine
about how filthy
and festering
and fucked up
all these fools are.
I guess my opinion is
that everyone
is a failure,
so I might as well
go for first prize
by running my mouth
more than anyone.
Three Poems by Jasmine Aequitas
sleep
legs are slick
scissoring
sin and
bedsheet and skin
talon grips
pillow
slips
cotton tethers
the night
is made
for ease
but i fight
like i never
want to see
daybreak.
bottoms up
i fell
clumsily
into love
caught
off guard
all
topsy turvy
in a vertigo
i enjoy
more
than i let on
he laughed
brushed
the dirt
from my scraped
knee
and
casually
remarked
do you
always
defy
gravity?
for the right
moment
the right
mouth
i break
every rule
i was told
i need to
follow
the ground
is where
the foundation
of anything
great
begins.
chasing mania
on nights
like these
i
chainsmoke
drink
write
i dance
trying
to outrun
the voices
the heaviness
the
not-good-enough
not-nearly-enough
of life
of blank faces
empty eyes
cold lips
on nights
like these
my skin
burns
come-hithers
and shivers
coaxing
lioness
from
complacent
housecat
on nights
like these
i channel
the woman
whose hips
speak
with a cheshire grin
whose
spine
curves
like
a question mark
that punctuates
need
as an
answer
whose
mouth
is a weapon
half-cocked
and ready
to be fully
loaded
on nights
like these
i am
pliable promise
breaking
until the cigarettes
are all ash
and the bottle is empty
and the sun
threatens tomorrow
legs are slick
scissoring
sin and
bedsheet and skin
talon grips
pillow
slips
cotton tethers
the night
is made
for ease
but i fight
like i never
want to see
daybreak.
bottoms up
i fell
clumsily
into love
caught
off guard
all
topsy turvy
in a vertigo
i enjoy
more
than i let on
he laughed
brushed
the dirt
from my scraped
knee
and
casually
remarked
do you
always
defy
gravity?
for the right
moment
the right
mouth
i break
every rule
i was told
i need to
follow
the ground
is where
the foundation
of anything
great
begins.
chasing mania
on nights
like these
i
chainsmoke
drink
write
i dance
trying
to outrun
the voices
the heaviness
the
not-good-enough
not-nearly-enough
of life
of blank faces
empty eyes
cold lips
on nights
like these
my skin
burns
come-hithers
and shivers
coaxing
lioness
from
complacent
housecat
on nights
like these
i channel
the woman
whose hips
speak
with a cheshire grin
whose
spine
curves
like
a question mark
that punctuates
need
as an
answer
whose
mouth
is a weapon
half-cocked
and ready
to be fully
loaded
on nights
like these
i am
pliable promise
breaking
until the cigarettes
are all ash
and the bottle is empty
and the sun
threatens tomorrow
Two Poems by Volodymyr Bilyk
hold your breath for a minute or so
Complacency sets in
Squandering
the savage jaw
"Drive", he said
"Steve Taylor"
"Drive", she said
"Stan Ridgway"
"...A change of speed,
a change of style.
A change of scene..."
you dream of their kiss
Do you think you'd like that?
________________________________
Thin White Rope
for the
Thin White Duke
over the
Thin Blue Line
and the
Thin Blue Line
and the
Thin Red Line
and the
Thin Red Line
Man on Wire
Walks on By
Complacency sets in
Squandering
the savage jaw
"Drive", he said
"Steve Taylor"
"Drive", she said
"Stan Ridgway"
"...A change of speed,
a change of style.
A change of scene..."
you dream of their kiss
Do you think you'd like that?
________________________________
Thin White Rope
for the
Thin White Duke
over the
Thin Blue Line
and the
Thin Blue Line
and the
Thin Red Line
and the
Thin Red Line
Man on Wire
Walks on By
Two Poems by Danny D Ford
She’s Gone
She’s gone to Milan
and left her perfume in the closet
sweet cheek and neck
hanging with the coats
Her hoodie lies crumpled
in the bidet
it’s clean enough to do that
she tells me
but I know
I wash my balls in there
I don’t know when she’ll be back
I have a faint idea
but
until then
I’ll just have to walk the rooms
wondering
checking the curtains to see
if any of her warmth
still creeps from the window
where she stood before lunch
Bellano
There’s a town we pass often
called Bellano
which literally translates as
‘beautiful asshole’
No one around here finds it funny
Now in my time
I’ve been fortunate enough
to have opened
some sublime slender
legs
to have pulled panties
from tight, smooth
cracks
to have stared into infinite
bliss
and to have kissed what felt like the cheeks
of God
BUT
I’ve never seen a view like this
the trees, the lake, the mountains
I guess
whoever named this town
had been more fortunate than I
She’s gone to Milan
and left her perfume in the closet
sweet cheek and neck
hanging with the coats
Her hoodie lies crumpled
in the bidet
it’s clean enough to do that
she tells me
but I know
I wash my balls in there
I don’t know when she’ll be back
I have a faint idea
but
until then
I’ll just have to walk the rooms
wondering
checking the curtains to see
if any of her warmth
still creeps from the window
where she stood before lunch
Bellano
There’s a town we pass often
called Bellano
which literally translates as
‘beautiful asshole’
No one around here finds it funny
Now in my time
I’ve been fortunate enough
to have opened
some sublime slender
legs
to have pulled panties
from tight, smooth
cracks
to have stared into infinite
bliss
and to have kissed what felt like the cheeks
of God
BUT
I’ve never seen a view like this
the trees, the lake, the mountains
I guess
whoever named this town
had been more fortunate than I
Monday Morning 7:05 AM by Ted Jackins
These are the days
When all I want to
Do is lay the needle
Down on Bitches Brew,
Side two,
And throw open every
Window so that the
Sounds of the slowly
Falling rain gets
Lost in the faint
Crackle of the speakers.
I'll light a cigarette,
And sit by idle
On the couch
With my coffee
And my woman
As the cats chase
Buzzing insect
Intruders under
The kitchen table,
And for one brief
Moment not have
To worry about the
Slowly piling bills
Or whether or not
I'll be late
For work,
As the last gasps
Of summer fade
Into the run out
Grooves of
My periphery.
When all I want to
Do is lay the needle
Down on Bitches Brew,
Side two,
And throw open every
Window so that the
Sounds of the slowly
Falling rain gets
Lost in the faint
Crackle of the speakers.
I'll light a cigarette,
And sit by idle
On the couch
With my coffee
And my woman
As the cats chase
Buzzing insect
Intruders under
The kitchen table,
And for one brief
Moment not have
To worry about the
Slowly piling bills
Or whether or not
I'll be late
For work,
As the last gasps
Of summer fade
Into the run out
Grooves of
My periphery.
Pussy by Amanda Harris
You write about as well as I did
when I was six–
with your use of animals
and your need to make
every goddamn
thing you write
in the shape of an animal-
My friends think I shouldn’t
hate your guts,
but they’re nice people.
They don’t know what
it feels like
to look at a poem
and want to
gouge your eyes out
with fire.
For months, I’ve
been trying to forget
you exist.
I trashed my library.
I attacked my computer
with a blowtorch.
Every time I got in bed
to write or fuck though,
I thought of your bad words
and your bad sex
and it’s no wonder
a woman like me would
say such angry things
when the literary world
is contaminated
with men who
can’t fuck,
can’t write.
when I was six–
with your use of animals
and your need to make
every goddamn
thing you write
in the shape of an animal-
My friends think I shouldn’t
hate your guts,
but they’re nice people.
They don’t know what
it feels like
to look at a poem
and want to
gouge your eyes out
with fire.
For months, I’ve
been trying to forget
you exist.
I trashed my library.
I attacked my computer
with a blowtorch.
Every time I got in bed
to write or fuck though,
I thought of your bad words
and your bad sex
and it’s no wonder
a woman like me would
say such angry things
when the literary world
is contaminated
with men who
can’t fuck,
can’t write.
In which my Puritan ancestor visits me in a waking dream by Thomas R. Thomas
and another thing, you’re just dressed in a t-shirt.
but I’m home alone in my couch.
but it’s shameful. God will condemn you,
God doesn’t care what I wear at home.
and you should be ashamed
well, you might have something there. I don’t have the body
of a thirty year old,
of yourself and cover your shame.
and I can’t imagine God made this body, and look at you
you’re just a skeleton in a Puritan outfit.
Well, I’m dead you know.
That you are, and besides some nights even a t-shirt is too
much clothing, but I can’t take it off all because of you
damn puritans - thank you very much.
You’re welcome.
That’s one thing you Puritans gave to America.
Shame.
Shame, thank you very much.
You’re welcome. What’s America?
but I’m home alone in my couch.
but it’s shameful. God will condemn you,
God doesn’t care what I wear at home.
and you should be ashamed
well, you might have something there. I don’t have the body
of a thirty year old,
of yourself and cover your shame.
and I can’t imagine God made this body, and look at you
you’re just a skeleton in a Puritan outfit.
Well, I’m dead you know.
That you are, and besides some nights even a t-shirt is too
much clothing, but I can’t take it off all because of you
damn puritans - thank you very much.
You’re welcome.
That’s one thing you Puritans gave to America.
Shame.
Shame, thank you very much.
You’re welcome. What’s America?
Pow Wow by Bud Smith
other people don't understand
our window, washing machine
the trick to the shower
how to force open the broken
cellar door, cabinet, closet
where to find our condoms
secret fact, there are none
they can't stand in our doorways
even, and sigh how we can
or find the other shoe
the secret sugar, the pink candles
playing cards, remote controls
maps to wherever the dog ran
wish I knew too
our sheets could use more bleach
and our cops need to get laid
in this development, our fortunes
are invested in beer
we raise our fortunes to you
as you walk up the driveway
thanks for coming to visit
tell me about some things
I could never
understand.
our window, washing machine
the trick to the shower
how to force open the broken
cellar door, cabinet, closet
where to find our condoms
secret fact, there are none
they can't stand in our doorways
even, and sigh how we can
or find the other shoe
the secret sugar, the pink candles
playing cards, remote controls
maps to wherever the dog ran
wish I knew too
our sheets could use more bleach
and our cops need to get laid
in this development, our fortunes
are invested in beer
we raise our fortunes to you
as you walk up the driveway
thanks for coming to visit
tell me about some things
I could never
understand.
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