-to Wallace Stevens I. would be the end of endings and beginnings when the heart is a trout pushing upstream pre-life (life) post-life (life) pre-life (life) an eternity granted to be alright the walls holding in the olympic-sized blue of my self would crack-crumble and out go the memorable memories as a child I thought […]
Contributors 69
Shafer Hall: Mina Loy
Here lies my Renee Lenore breathing All over my pillow; woman poets make her pink. I blush when I think about how we educated each Other in: friction or rustling of the breath, intonated or untonated, through a narrow opening between two of the mouth organs; uttered through close approach of the organs of articulation, […]
Jen Knox: Kisses Sweeter Than Wine
Apparently, all those margaritas and cocaine Have saddled me with a profound bout of diarrhea. Two days on, and the illness shows no sign of waning. Each whale-like moo that emanates from my black, Empty abdomen fertilizes the seeds of my disconcertment. Vicodin would temporarily assuage the situation, But for how long, and what of […]
Wayne Koestenbaum: Best-Selling Jewish Porn Films
Jewish Gold Jews Between Themselves Jewish Jocks Jewish Patro Jewish Sweat (pre-condom) Jewish Workout Jewish Pick-Up College Jews Casa Jew Jew-in-the-Hood jewboyz.com Sweatin’ Jew Jewish Hard Drive Da Bronx Jew Jewish Sex Party Domination Jewish Wrestling Jewish Lockerroom Rumble King Size Jew Jewish Hotel Hell Jewish Heat Waves Jews Should Do It! Jews of Company […]
Daniel Nester: Poems from God Save My Queen
Flash Gordon (Soundtrack) In The Space Capsule (The Love Theme) They look at each other. Your very own roustabout*, a cosmos, a Kosmos bullied by timpani. Remember Flash and that Chams du Baron, sweating, bandanae around his neck? An animal’s glance, so diagonal and quizzical in its wonder at the closing dumpster walls. Porno and […]
Miguel Hernández: I Walk On In Shade, Filled With Light, Translation by Renato Rosaldo
I walk on in shade, filled with light: does day exist? Is this my tomb or my maternal dome? A pulsing beats against my skin like a cold shard that sprouts, hot, red, tender. Perhaps I’ve not yet been born, or have always been dead. Shade rules me. If this is life, what could death […]