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H/O/L/L/E/R
by Lane Vineyard I have gazed into the eyesof the taxidermy foxand found its warped reflection of my ownmore fitting. its gossamer phantoms orbitsister moons of anthracite coal;once teeming with life, now entombed withincalcified dew. I’ve long fled mother Appalachiayet still anticipatethe city’s rancid pavement pools to exhale herritualistic chants in the tongue of eldritch…
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Maybe You Should Choke
Sam Ray is a fresh face to poetry, but growing up with the strip as her backyard it’s no wonder this poet knows how to captivate a crowd. The multi-talented 26 year old has featured at places like Cork & Thorn and the Utah Arts Festival. Her poetry is truthful and raw, and she doesn’t…
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Make A Wish
Sam Ray is a fresh face to poetry, but growing up with the strip as her backyard it’s no wonder this poet knows how to captivate a crowd. The multi-talented 26 year old has featured at places like Cork & Thorn and the Utah Arts Festival. Her poetry is truthful and raw, and she doesn’t…
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Ascend We Must, Above.
Anthony is a Black Mixed-race poet & writer who has spent most of his life in Kuwait jostling between the UK & America. Anthony’s work has been published 230 times internationally. Anthony has 3 published chapbooks titled ‘The Great Northern Journey’ 2020 (Lazy Adventurer Publishing) & ‘Vultures’ 2021 (Roaring Junior Press) as well as a…
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Comparison
by Sam Ray I’m not fatBut I’m thicker than herAnd my ass ain’t flat, I got wide hips and beautiful curvesSo the size of my jeans doubles,now I’m insecureAnd I’ve always felt fatter, uglier, less than, completely unsureOf my beautyBecause the pretty girl gets all the looks, she’s a double zeroAnd I’m over here trying…
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Andy Betz has tutored and taught in excess of 40 years. He lives in 1974, and has been married for 30 years. His works are found everywhere a search engine operates (including Dream Noir).
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Cold Room
by Jide Badmus It’s a rainy morning.The earth breathescold on its citizens.I reach for a blanket offlesh that is unavailable. The room is filledwith pieces of you—strands of hair,vestige of scent,mirage of smile &a ghost of your voice.There is a depressionon your side of the bed—but these walls struggleto reconstruct memories.The mirror claims not torecall…
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The Family Hermit
by John Grey He was a quiet man, not so much thoughtful, as indifferent to thinking. He pretended to be a father but the motions didn’t suit. And his face was ill-fitted for warmth. On Sundays, instead of church, my father would drive some place on his own. take to the side roads, the dirt…
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A View of The Aurora Borealis
by John Grey So cold, so sunless, in these northern climes and yet, in the distance, horizon won’t go dark as green dances deliriously through brownish-red emissions, glowing blue emulsions, and solar wind blows pink and yellow. The closer I draw my coat to me, the wider my eyes open. What once was shiver is…
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Unwell
by Mark Mitchell This bodywas not workshopped. No one soughtbetter ways to build it so functionswould join smoothly and everyonewould be pleased all the time. It will justhave to do its best.& Mark J. Mitchell Mark J. Mitchell was born in Chicago and grew up in southern California. His latest poetry collection, Starting from Tu…