— What pilgrim shadows— how stubbornly they tail you, children better left at home. The tawny stalker slinks, sour puss following that silver marauder— always after your heart, girl. You are dragging yourselves toward…
Browsing Category Prose, Poetry, and Art
Penis for Sharon Olds
— There’s nothing wrong with the Pope’s penis or the Pope himself, both are overrated carbon matters made important by his Catholic aura. If thought biochemically, it’s not much different from…
My Yard Becomes the Apollo Theater by Paula Weld-Cary
— I tossed a handful of peanuts into my backyard attracting a trio of jays, screeching, screeching, to my window where liquid notes spilled from their throats as if from saxophones: Salt…
Tell me something
— Tell me something I don’t know. Everyone who holds the line is not brave, and everyone who gazes over channels is not a dreamer. And I am neither. I am eating paper in…
Poem with Fingerprints by Ryler Dustin
— Here’s a poem dark with fingerprints, all the fingerprints that touched the paper it’s on and made the machines that took the pulp that had once been wood held by gloves with secret…