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Poetry
Dan Riley
Philip burrows deep into his cavernous nostril, his long cockled nobbly finger beneath translucent anaemic skullskin. He’s pitched himself at 110° 20° behind the 90° Elizabeth iron-faced, straight ahead, unaware of her busy husband. . Harry sits beside his very own bride to be. They have both discovered a way into one...

Poetry
Laurence Vougiouklakis
MY DILETTANTE . You ask me who she is, for the name of this, my, Dilettante. Licensed by petulance, her keen eyelashes Seem, especially at night, to assume the coherence Of algebras, trigonometries. Her name is Fortunata, harbinger of such symphonies The likes of which You’ve never heard; rejoice! rejoice! For right...

Poetry
Peter O’Neill
For Wilkys Weinhardt, after Augusto Dos Anjos . Insane synthesis of aural pyrotechnics and putrid content needed; Yet sadly, and strangely, lacking here...

Poetry
Ephraim Gast
Blue’s black rags Semaphore me in the breeze, And I don’t know how to reply. Blue’s a windy picardy third, Only unhappy—what should I do About Blue? A greek chorus Of horror follows us all about, Attune to the happenings, But what can they tell me about Blue? There’s commotion in the...

Poetry
Paul Tristram
I awake upside down and giddy, again. Head upon the sticky carpet With my body sloping up At an insane angle Onto the settee. I gag, cough and spit something Wet sponge textured and ashtray tasting As far away from me as I can manage. Twist, fall and pull myself...

Poetry
Rachel Coventry
WITCHING . My bad soul stayed back Clinging to your clothes like smoke Catching in your throat Moving in peripheral vision Sometimes a demon grinning In your vitreous humor. . In its absence I developed A fondness for charity shopping Rummaging through piles Of soiled sweaters with balling, Picking them up with stiff fingers Sniffing from...

Poetry
Manz DeFio
He told us he was a Wagoner, But he didn’t even know what that meant. Half his buttocks hung in thin air, The other half planted on the bar stool. It was hard to figure out What the smell about him was, Vaguely onion or vinegar. I wondered how...

Poetry
Metal Maher
It’s eight oh four I’m seated in the dining area At a table used for gathering dust Rather than displaying banquets on Cigarette ash spilling from the tray Adding to the dust Wine in the press. It’s Thursday you see And that means a lot to a man It’s the last...

Poetry
Dableo
Before her last breath, He laid down a silver coin at her feet She knew it was her time Shunning the bargaining stage Rotted oak trees rise above the stench Her golden locks trickled across the cracked dirt Her lung deflated Her eyes filled with blood The wind splashed tears along...

Poetry
Ian Critchley
She held a seed, in a Cupped fist like a Womb, And as she slowly decreased Her grip, the sun Hit, And the seed began to sprout And blossom, In bloom. I said, “it reminds me of you,” And that “once you let the dark...