From Being Stalingrad to Nothingness

by Brett Stout After she annexed her existenceandthe Crimea, confessions as oxymoron’swere writtenin dead languages onblank Post-It Notesleft in empty carriagesas thebroken dams filled withneon ghetto trashcansand urban rodent predators weresprayingdesigner cologne onme and inthe pages ofmonthly corporate familymagazines, celebrate the revolutionwith blood soaked handsand pinwheelsof death and mass genocide, yellow ochreprimary redblackandlime greenpaint strokes … Continue reading From Being Stalingrad to Nothingness

Heart’s Desire

by Lacie Semenovich i. I climbed this mountain to feel the breeze coarseagainst my skin, the rocks bruisesoftly my bones, to see the mother sky. ii. Lightning spread over the path. Mudslides passed through my fingers, fedthe barren earth retreating beneath my feet. iii. Willow trees hang heavy, ripe with dew unshed. Pine sap seals … Continue reading Heart’s Desire

Clean Bugs, Dirty Carpet

by Brett Stout The trending of negative scars, the warzone isn’t out thereit’s in here, the militant swansof theunderground resistance movementrenting ghetto apartmentswith bad credit andworse soulsin an unknownTerminus Cityfunerals for future fuehrersand class clownswiretap my docile bodyand defile themannequin after midnightfeed me old bread andrusted hypodermic formulasand vintagecataract addictionswithbirthday cards addressed, to: no oneChe … Continue reading Clean Bugs, Dirty Carpet

Apocrypha

by RC deWinter my life is a grimoirescribed in invisible inkon vellum that crumbles at a touchunreadableand even if it wereyou wouldn’t want to a history of wrong choiceattributable only to pridecarelessness and haste i do not speak of these things what can be said in explanationexculpationexpiation?there are no words there are no words these … Continue reading Apocrypha

In the Brick

by Philip Berry in thirty sentient years the tide has ridden the quayforty thousand times the stone in the brick&containing the promise I setremains unchanged seamless heart&prize unseen i do not remember how heavy it was&what it looked likeno it gleamed it did shine&&though it was dark and there were dogs at my backsilver gold … Continue reading In the Brick

Jupiter and Saturn

by Leah Mueller for Russ   November storm-watchingon the Pacific coast,I saw you fiercethe first time. You: afraid of webs and travel,always giving methe helm during gales. Cheap Westport motel,probably gone now.Anchors and ashtrays in the side yard,decrepit station wagonsfilled to overflowingwith fishing gear. Ice-cold wind:seventy miles per hour,both of us bundledagainst gusts. Winter uprooted trees,ripped … Continue reading Jupiter and Saturn