we used to lay beneath each Sunday, hungry, hands like mouths on our answers, like tarnish on silver: didn’t we know   the roots would remain—rely on the shade— permanence and god and love? Gentle wind, didn’t we know invincible? And what do we know now? Her father owned guns.   My father was one. Watch her walk away, steadying the ark of herself on the bark of Chinaberry Trees when the wind blows. Always, see the brilliance falling out of   her, falling out…Continue Reading “What happened to the Chinaberry Trees by Clarissa Kendall”

in the back of my Mazda Minivan, steaming like, Hot Worms wriggling up, drowning like, Indiana Jones in some pit, slowly gurgling out the last slips of air.   my lungs can heave, however, cleaved in two they will operate independently, and hot worms will fill up both spaces, little balloons of flesh, ready to pop with one simple instrument – and so –   fucking like a maimed dog i will whimper. ad carve in my stomach a new slit, an inch above my…Continue Reading “SkinWalker by Max Torti”

  I am God’s grand bravado, temporal.   Whose hairline recedes like trees forested on a fleeting ball of dirt, and water. Several teeth decayed have been extracted. Soft breasts evolved of pectorals chiseled, and eyesight dims like the drear dusk of Spring. I see things less clearly. And more clearly.   I am God’s grand bravado, temporal.   Who acquires heartburn after pizza, and piss-drizzles in pants after peeing. Writing is limited. Desire, too. Joints are stiffer than the chub erection. Fading body weeps….Continue Reading “God’s Grand Bravado by Kenny Burchett”

image source words by Sylvia Jones   i am i be –De La Soul Letters to My Daughter pulsing;  a phantom limb borrowed equipped me to love my mother. You personified debonair You fashioned me a skeptic so I was prepared for shortcomings and backfires, anticipating what looks like progress; a moonwalk, an illusion of forward.   Lorde, Hooks, Dove, Giovanni, Raab, Boyle can be blamed too. But without you  Maya, I am disarranged. Come back and teach us how to listen better. After they krooned your death…Continue Reading “Angelou Street”