An Ax For The Frozen Sea by Rob Plath available at Epic Rites Press

An Ax For The Frozen Sea

The Fold by Chris Butler

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

They appeal to my vanity

make me feel young again
anything to get them

A few of the girls

make eyes
rub my shoulder
as if paedophilia
took a holiday.


for them
I am good.


as any

Having jerked off eight times

in the past twenty-six
(a new land speed

I desire a bag of pork rinds

and a 2 litre

and no longer


Map of wanton Omaha by James Diaz

All fall
the entire horse hair
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
'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.

ENJOY OBLIVION by Wolfgang Carstens available at Epic Rites Press


Two Poems by John Grey


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.


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.

She Poems by Mike Meraz available at Epic Rites Press

She Poems

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

Two Poems by Christopher Mulrooney


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


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


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


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

There was a
Point when
I knew
I should just

And kiss



At least
Is not
I do not

Is not
A bad

It is


She says
Let me see
If you can
Hold my

She lays
On top
Of me

She is at
140 lbs


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
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
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.


About Me

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