wendy cray

girl

she
is a dirty mouth in a rotten mood
i
am trying not to love her
she's a right split storm stuck in a cube and
i'm trying not to love her
her skin is sweet and razortorn and i'm trying not
to love her she's a concrete grid gone all freeform
and i'm trying not to love her
she feels so much better when she’s bound in
leather and she wants to burn it down but the
people won’t let her
because they want to be, but she is
and they know they’ll never
get her

damage

sometimes I bleed in tidal waves.

I slice open the floodgates
that block the body flow–
then I,
dull and dutiful,
dam them back up
with little pink pills–
slippery satin ballerinas–
so many I choke
silenced
and the tide
is
rising

jason overmiller

Drunken Eyes

Dark and silent
Drunken eyes
Reflecting shadows
From sometimes sad
And darker skies
Burnt out rings
Around my head
And broken wings
Beside my bed
Cancer rotted
Twisted thoughts
Release black chains of smoke
From this burning loss
My shallow empire
Was sacred and tranquil
But now I'm perched
On broken glass
And ponder thoughts
As moments pass
"What's this light?"
And "who does it guide?"
This strange occurrence
And lack of fear
I'm not afraid
No desire to hide
These dark and silent
Drunken eyes

Colors Of Life

Green is green
But only if it's been watered
And the sun shines proud
Red is Red
But only if it's been angered
And the blood rises quickly
Blue is blue
But only if the water is clear
And the rain fell steady and true
Black is gray and sometimes white
But only if they could make us laugh and cry
And were always by our side
Whether or not we fought the good fight
Or we tried to hide

Romance

8 minutes past sunrise
And the lights are still on
They never went out
Cause I never went down
Breakfast isn't breakfast
When it's just an early dinner
Cause the darkness isn't really dark
Over the head of just an average sinner
I'll hit the floor after just one more
Yet I know there's someone who can do better
And if it wasn't the dawn
Of the day after yesterday
I'd have white eyes and a straight mind
To sit down and write her a love letter

kelly walker

I rose up from my plastic patio chair and stepped close to my uncle’s to say goodbye. As I bent down for a hug, his thin tattooed arms reached
up to meet me. Through his fuzzy salt & pepper beard he offered one final comment on the evening’s conversation. “Hey, you’re just not gonna find happiness out there. You gotta find it
in here,” he said, drawing both hands to his chest. “You gotta have it in here.” Simple wisdom, more profound than anything found in the giant textbooks carried under the arms of the sheltered college students he cleans up after five days a week. If only they would pause to consider.

When I get off the subway at Montgomery Street in the mornings, there is often a tiny Mexican guy in full cowboy attire playing a huge guitar in the hallway. I always smile at him. As I walked past this morning, his guitar was resting silently against the wall and he was examining his index finger with a look of geez-how-did-that-happen kind of surprise.
I wanted to stop and ask him about it, to find out what happened, just like I always want to stop and ask the homeless people about their stories. But I didn’t. I never do.

I’ve been holding my breath for so long that I’m faint, lightheaded, dizzy from the staleness of it all. I have to breathe out, force the stagnant years out of my lungs, and make room for the fresh clean air to flow in and restore me.

greg rathbun

The Propheteer

The postcard will tell me what to do.
The postcard has never lied to me before.
I hold it out in front of me and slowly wave it.
Light glimmers off it just so.
And there it comes again.
The light.
But what does it say?

I get no tip this time.
If they had asked me for truth, I could have told them truth.
They asked for fortune when I have none to give.
His eyes accuse me of being a cheat, a swindler, or worse.
Her eyes show fear as though she suspects my half-truths.
It matters little.
The world will end before dawn has begun.

Label to a bottle of baby wine:

750ML                        11%Alc. By Vol.

Baby Wine

2005 Infantus Sanguis

Wines of Transylvania

Product of Romania/Produced
and Bottled by The Order of
The Forest Beyond

Imported by Esoteric Dagon LLC.,
Innsmouth, MA.

Contains Feces            Blood Red Wine

GOVERNMENT WARNING: (1) ACCORDING TO THE SURGEON GENERAL, WOMEN SHOULD NOT DRINK BABY WINE DURING PREGNANCY OR WHILE OPERATING HEAVY MACHINERY (2) BABY WINE IS PEOPLE AND MAY CAUSE HEALTH PROBLEMS