by Allan Lake As a child my whole world was a village in Saskatchewan. Home, school, shop.Long cold winter? One per year as a rule.Upon adulthood I discharged myself. What if my whole world was now EmergencyDept, Alfred Hospital, Melbourne, Australia?Electric suns would always shine. White sheetsbut no snow. People would unsoundly sleep and I’d unplug myself before going to Read More
Tag: dec 16 2019
you will surrender your life
by Linda M. Crate you think onlywerewolvesknow metamorphosis?you think onlywerewolvesknow the moon?she is my kin,my mother,to be specific;the night is when i feelmost alive—you buried me duringthe day when i was still sleepinglike the coward you were,but i woke up;and i broke out of that coffinleaving earth and your name behind me—reclaimed both my voice and my power,learned my magic Read More
Because This One Is Broken
by Millicent Borges Accardi There was a boat, there were many boats,patterned after a fashion into a fleet.There were Portuguese widows who prayedand those who sang of sailors and their strong sea,amid the sky that we wore like a cape.There was a yellow radiance of sunset and howit used to be. Please, ask me, husband, and I will bringyou a Read More
Shouldn’t Mother Be A Song?
by Prosper Enotor Path these curtains to my childhood, let in some light. This poem is the clattering of a coin toss in a room the beep of a c-4 seconds away from explosion. At age four i first learn to nod, to balance day and night on my tongue.then, pain was not having enough toy to fill the Read More
Writing Suicide Notes in the Bluebird
by David L O’Nan I was writing on notebook paperRed-bumped tongue sticking like glue to the roof of a dry mouthDecember weakens meMy bones and all my thoughtsCan’t dream in the pillars of orgasmsWhen our ecosystems begin crashing in declining health I freeze to your scarsAnd grew hungry in all of your fearsThe stairs and the elevatorsThe storms and the Read More
Rebel-sound
by Philip Berry Amy, 11, couldn’t know how the day would end. In the sharp metallic hour as the first train rolled in, ideas danced and hope thrummed. While thickening rivulets of opinion moved calmly among the city’s sand-blasted flanks and reflective skins, father could not see what the streets held. Nor could mother sense the rising threat, her gaze Read More