Poetry

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 Out, The light in, You could flourish.”...

Poetry
Ephraim Gast
It’s a pottery and clay day. Aren’t we all feeling the thickness of the ether? Yes but everyone still recoils and waters their very own laurels. . Oh, look: that topsoil is blowing off! Now old Knave and young Lark can see me. Under that damn ramshackle stalk...

Poetry
Peter O’Neill
An old cleaning lady, bowed down by years of service, approaches The church under the weight of a full bucket of water, passes The fonts, vulva like, where the original water you wear resides, Opens a blue door promising mystery and incense and enters into The...