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MESSENGER by Clyde Kessler Night has played Mercury into this fog and children. We once heard it thieving fire from a crashing plane. If tonight we sell our river farm to something that orbits near us, will our plum orchard still bloom in Chu Ta Crater's face? If a creature made of leaves is singing with heat and poets, does the fire belong to stoves, will the soot rhyme with gates? Because Mercury is so pale, its light has become splintered with every deep lie we need. We must have stolen it once from near the sun to play a dying world for newly born. |
SKYLINE by Myles Boisen |
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LESS THAN TOTAL RECALL by Robert Lee Haycock Venus rose redly And I cannot recall her Being so angry. RED by Jon Morgan Davies A communist. A native. An edit striking words out with pen or pencil. Color of loss, of anger. Bleeding across the page. The sayings of Christ the Saviour. Warning. A naughty part of town. Stop. HOT by Jon Morgan Davies Serve it sizzling and sweaty. We've got the scent. We're on it. This dog. It's spicy. Stolen. Fresh from boiling water. Blood. A war zone to stay clear of. |
CREEPY HAPPY IN SIAM by Baxter Jackson |
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MINE by Robert Lee Haycock I me mine all mine This is mine and that is mine Damn it's dark in here BURIAL by Robert Lee Haycock God made all of this Out of Himself and now rests Buried deep in us |
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