Alan Toltzis Happiness Their house filled with dither and din, misheard repetition, and misrepresentation as if they were on some plaintive search for a key when she remembered hers —buried deep in her pocketbook and he reclaimed his —from the right-hand corner of the mantle— just where they put them (for safekeeping) every day for […]
Read MoreSteve Klepetar Ballast I ride the air balloon of your love, soaring higher and higher as I drop the ballast overboard: my ego, that anvil, that anchor made of lead. Steve Klepetar knows it’s the month before the month of May, and spring comes slowly up this way.
Read MoreAnna Butcher Someone Collects My Old Self Like It’s Snakeskin Seven is the number of completion and I have been completed two times shedding off my old selves like snakeskin ghosts waiting to be collected and shown off like, “look at this girl’s mottled mess, I got it at her worst.” Anna Butcher is a […]
Read MoreHannah Bleier Guthertz I wish I’d met him after I stopped hating myself, for he was kinder than I was, more easily pleased, and unlike me, comfortable seeming feminine, which made him more masculine as he slowly bit and sucked my lips until they stung slightly, vibrating, his blunt hands warm and strong as we […]
Read MoreHowie Good Wind Song There’s so much going on here it’s always worth getting out of the car, and if you listen really quietly, you can hear the stream flowing and these people who survived by eating weeds and even talk proudly about it. Howie Good is on the pavement, thinking about the government.
Read MoreHowie Good An Unfortunate Juxtaposition It’s heartbreaking and difficult to hear about, but beached whales attract sharks, and that’s when she called the cops, the three worst things you can do. Howie Good is still on the pavement, still thinking about the government.
Read MoreHowie Good Overdose 2.0 There are many places where a person can get lost and not even realize it until they are lost for good, but maybe you did find hints along the way, seeing things that weren’t there, the occasional escalator going up into a vagina, and if so, it would have been like […]
Read MoreHowie Good To My Father, Who Asked What My Poems Mean Little, very little, almost nothing in fact, just the blind howls of a barren woman giving birth to something unexplainable in a dark corner of the attic. One of Howie Good‘s latest books is Hitchhiking Through the Apocalypse (Grey Book Press).
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