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Archive for February, 2010

By Philip Ledford

It was like listening to Brahms in a rain storm.
A bitch mother of a rain storm.
The worst one ever witnessed.

His sharp progression of chords grabbed at my throat
demanding an end to my life.
I wanted my life to end.

He jumped and danced around the small bar room fingering his guitar
like a mad man with 134 fingers.
All 134 of them gnawing at the strings with unpredictable rhythm.

The noise didn’t make any sense and neither did his lyrics.
Lucky for me the microphone volume was far too low to hear
the absurdness that spilled from his mouth.

The audience of drunk bar patrons and teenagers with their angst stood their jerking their heads to the chaotic movements while I silently prayed for an end to the painful noise.

And then abruptly a liquored pink angel fell from the sky.
Face first.
Her cocktail glass shattered when it hit the floor, silencing everything

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By Quasimofo Snyder

Sometimes, it’s not whether the glass is half full or half empty,
but whether you even have a glass…
Damn it me!

The earth is round but my world-view has flatlined—————
IT’S EVERY CONDEMNED CAST-OUT FOR HIM/HER/SELF!!!
CAUSE THIS IS ANOTHER ESKIMO BAPTISM GONE BAD!!!
You and only you are in charge of your own rehab..
..oh spastic bejesus! it’s so hard to get out what i got in.
..Internal combustion engines will run off cappuccino makers
and the phases of the moon will appear all at once
before rebirth is converted into pizzazz-zapping riddle-solvent..

Shackle a poetic spambot and it might sputter:

unhinged jollity waking generation repeats cream of crop

circles tickle tort you are belated uproarious waiting .

There are many menial communes tucked away within
the gated confines of our misdo gray matter pitter-patter
slates written with an unmind to cross the T-bones and
dot the eyewitness newsrooms..

For Example: if your step dad treated you like an idiot
while doing carpentry,
you are gonna grow up not wanting to do carpentry…
and be destined to live ball-and-chain in a run-down
fix-em-up ramshack shanty.
Do you got enough gauze for this pooch on the prowl?
Did you know there are free psych-evals on facebook
–object embedding particle rarities that fulfill or kill?

Your life lesson is to learn your life lessons..
Any questions?

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By Howie Good

Not day exactly, not exactly night either,
more like the gray of a long illness,
but if I grieved harder or healed better,
maybe the winter-pinched deer
would come down out of the trees to feed
and my promiscuous hands remember
the other hands they have touched,
the back ways and side streets and tangles,
and maybe columns of snow wouldn’t
build on the branches like new nests
abandoned just this morning by angels.

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By Jason Tobin

The subject- Preying Mantis
continuously resurfacing
as of three weeks ago

The first Incident-

observed alone- me.
the aforementioned feasted
on it’s fodder, which
was still alive and
twitched through pain.

The second Coincidence-

on the clock- employees.
discussed was the
fact that the empowered
female consumes it’s
mate shortly after copulation.
an odd expression of thanks.

The third Reoccurrence-

over dinner- family.
story of our protagonist
whose life ended
from trepidation.
killer disliked attachment

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Alexander’s Seizure

By Charles Bane Jr.

It is an aloneness, this malady.
It hurled me from Bucephalus yesterday.
I fell ( as I lay and shook
upon the fields ) into the sea. There are always
dolphins waiting; in beautiful depths
I take a fin and watch patterns cross
the bodies of my companions that are cut from cloaks
of waves, or handsome shields. I wish the world
was watery. Swords are only flashing schools,
motioning past. The dolphins turned
to shallows and I cried, but made only bubbles.
I could not call , “Away from war. I watched you swim
at twilight once, and looked on peace.”

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He Took a Cab

By Mather Schneider

A cabby got shot last night.
Another cabby found him.

He was already dead.
It was over where Geronimo

hits Main, between Larry’s Hardware
and El Corral, thirty

feet from his cab. Our guess:
fare refused to pay

and fled; cabby pursued.
You know the hope

in your life is the same
as your hesitation

before you stand up
to chase a man

down a dark alley,
for fourteen dollars.

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shrapnel around the heart

By Karl Koweski

the boy sits
beneath the shadow
of the juniper tree
album splayed open
on his lap

his fingers caress
the pieces of his
collection

a friend joins him
an album of his own
tucked under his arm

and they fall into
comparing favorites

the boy proudly displays
rusted corkscrews,
shards of spark plug ceramic
two nails twined
into a crucifixion form
pulled from
the radiator of a bus
near the detonation of
a female suicide bomber
in Tel Aviv

his friend showcases
his own crown jewel
a ragged circle
laced with silver thorns
his father brought home
from work, last week,
pulled from the chest
of a five year-old girl

you can still see
the blood on it,
the boy marvels,
holding the disc up
to the fading sunlight

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