Archive for January, 2013


By JP Reese

Her story, history, hysterectomy, hysteria
Vagina, vaginal, virginal, magical, genital
Practical, primal, pudendal, pudere
Prisoner, mystery, memento mori
Purgatory, purged, plumed, illumined
Blamed, inflamed, doomed, shamed, medicate
Meditate, salivate, masturbate, bait, berate
Bloom, woman, womb, dumb, rubber
Rule, abuse, use, uterus, neuter us, nakedness
Fake, hate, flagellate, instigate, infiltrate
Subjugate, crooked, straight, bait, berate
Bare, stare, swear, player, prayer
Amen, semen, menstruate, specimen
Circumcise, infantilize, circumstance
Circle, circus, beatus, bellus, ballus, sellus
Puerile, sterile, stereotype, rape, rope
Scrape, rate, rut, runt, cunt, cut
Clit, clot, slit, slot, slut, shun, shit
Lift, beat, meat, milk, smoke, choke
Fake, fate, eat, egg, ovum, drown
Bone, stone, tongue, ova, vulva, moan
Chromosome, blonde, bomb, scum, slim
Slime, slide, knife, glide, inside
Formaldehyde, deride, debride, collide, divide
Ride, rid, red, bleed, head, blood, incubus
Nimbus, succubus, bust, breast, blast, blister
Pus, pussy, rust, ring, sting, string
Stink, pink, blink, blank, cock, black
Rack, break, slake, suck, fake, fuck, take
Snake, shed, bled, Gilead, glory, story
Whore, warden, war, garden, Eden, queen
Green, tree, free, fruit, root, rot, truth, taint
Saint, slut, slave, strip, lip, frigid, fair
Foul, feline, false, famous, fallen, free

Read Full Post »

By William Merricle

I’d forgotten fantasizing
about swimming 3 miles
into your blooming arms
whilst chained to an iron bed
on which Romiette and Julio
were pushin’ bony couplets
and simultaneously cheering
my progress with megaphones
strapped to their heads

Read Full Post »

Not Always a Happy Place

By Meg Tuite

It starts to grow round or long like a boat
or sometimes long like a snake
but it is not square or a triangle when it comes out
because it has to come out of a round place

a nice place only when it gets larger
and lets the round boats and snakes out
an evil place when it keeps itself closed

and you have to be near one of the white,
sometimes pink or yellow
but most times white, hard, oval objects
when the boat or snake are ready to depart
from the open place

so when you feel the boat or snake moving out
then lift the round white, pink or yellow cover
let your pants drop and sit on the white hard seat
let the nice place open
the boat or snake will sometimes just drop
into water

you will usually see a brown boat or snake floating
but sometimes they are pink, red or even green
then you know that these are not happy times

sometimes when you need one of those white hard oval objects
but you are in a car
or on the phone
or walking far from where the white objects live
then you may get scared
as the boat or snake are not going to stay inside

and if people are near
you can’t drop your pants there where you are
so you may have to run

you will not smile while you run
you may get more scared
as the boat or snake start to come out of the nice place
before you get to any cool white oval seat

and the thing about the boat or snake?
they don’t care
they will drop into your pants as you run
with a scared look on your face
and you will feel the boat or snake running with you

they also have a smell that other people know
but don’t like
and you have to stop running
because the boat or snake can fall
sometimes out of your pants
and not in a good place

so you may want to cry
but if you cry then people will come near you
they will smell the smell they don’t like
then they won’t like you

it would be best
if you waited to cry
until you got to a place without people

and maybe if you spy one of those white, yellow or pink oval objects
after the boat or snake is sitting in your pants
you may want to kick it.

Read Full Post »

By Jeremy Ball

Isn’t serious and lacks
the sex appeal of manic
depression, but could always
turn into schizophrenia, cancer,
or a bleeding ulcer.

It’s the four a.m. fear
of four p.m. You forgot to
zip your pants, and your
notecards for the speech.

Franklin Roosevelt’s
fear of fear itself.

Crying without a nearby onion,
laughing when the elderly fall,
swearing repeatedly during prayer,
not being able to stop.

Maybe you’ll forget
how to breathe when you sleep,
die during Winter,
not be buried till Spring,
have a boring funeral,
and a typo on your tombstone.

Someday, some girl will say “yes,”
but your dead grandma will
show up drunk with an album
of your nude baby pictures
and your foreskin in a jar.

It can be treated with blue pills
but damn near cured with
six to eight blue cans
of Bud or Miller Lite.

Read Full Post »

By Mather Schneider

She bends her knees in the tiger shadows,
slides down pink
petal-thin panties
and drops tiny champagne piano keys
onto the earth.

I pull her to me
before the froth can settle
and push myself inside her
like a slippery root.

Her hands fly out to the gnarly trunk
of an old tree
like she’s trying to push it
over and ride
down to the valley

while from my
cramped toes I shoot
strings of crazy snow
into the hot mesquite syrup
of our blood.

Sometimes it is good
to get away from the city
and into
the mountains.

Read Full Post »

By Dane Foster


The everyday normal hell
Mr. Potato Head
Screaming in the elevator


There is this beautiful girl
I know
Writing my poems
She hums grapes
Clustering the arbors—
Curls of crushed wine trail
Down her neck
As she hums in this life
The mind’s a madhouse
And you think
Words will cure it.


You feel hopeless sometimes?
Of course you
Do otherwise what would be
The point
All those fingernails pulled out
To no purpose
One month I said to myself
And the maples will be
Heading south
And the next month the homeless
Birds of winter
Be shivering their way away
Like dry leaves until
All that’s left for you to trim
With will be snowstorms’
And the cardinal’s red decibels.


Poetry—just the word’s an anxiety attack
Fresh water wastes
Dried up cattle skulls the dead
Wandering among the safety deposit boxes
Of Dis

Regarding the dead.
One told his girlfriend in line
They didn’t
Need a condom.
Her panties would work.

Jesus, she said.
I don’t want
That stuff on my panties!
Alright, he said. I’ll
Just pull out.

Sure you will you prick.
She said.
Go buy some goddam rubbers
Or use your hand!

Ha! Just when I thought
There was no poetry in this economy
Up pops Mr. Potato Head
With a gem like that!

Read Full Post »

Bad Attitude

By Michael Estabrook

In the Boardroom,
with all the other Middle Managers,
a kick-off meeting of the Core Launch Team
for the new line of 740D cassettes
and capsules targeted
for use in the influenza vaccine market.

These exemplary products, an exciting extension
of our bioprocess product platform,
a full-range of standard 60-cm path length devices,
offer superior separation performance profiles
and efficient packing densities, potentially
higher membrane selectivity
minimizing cross-contamination,
enabling cost-effective flow capacity coupled
with preliminary purification for our customers, and –

Frankly, to be honest, (just between you and me)
I don’t give a damn. Bad attitude, terrible attitude
I know but I can’t help it.
All I can think about is getting out of work early today,
so I can get outside into
the fresh air and sunshine.

Read Full Post »

A Tenuous Hold

By Sy Roth

Saucily independent petals purple the dawn.
Hazy visions encircle it in a verdant field.
It whispers its song written on foolscap,
existence unmarred momentarily by their skulking encroachment.
It scents the air with floral-flatulent hauteur.

A dog sniffs it.
Content that it intends no harm, he passes it by.
Languidly proud,
it encourages the wind’s light caress,
and answers in a princessly twist of her hand.
An unctuous slug is permitted to leave a vitreous trail
as it glides the green mile of its hirsute underbelly.

Boisterous picnickers arrive
and they smell nothing
but charcoal briquets and lighter fluid
that will sear their hamburgers and frankfurters.
They march lockstep,
a column of ants, blind to it and
its tenuous tethering to the earth,
spread a red-checkered blanket over it,
smother it in a sunless canopy,
pound its leaves into the ground,
weigh it down under a picnic-basket ingot,
smash it with their undulating buttocks,
extinguish its scent,
and erase its existence.

Weeds trek in when the light returns–
in batches of squalor to absorb it.
They saturate the air with chlorophyll breath
and anchor themselves to the soil.

Read Full Post »

When Kids Complain

By Steven Gowin

They say, we have hangnails.
I say, I have a bruised leg.
They say, we stubbed our toe.
I say, I have a stomach ache.

They say, we have a headache.
I say, I have an earache.
They say, we cut our finger,
I say, my nose is bleeding.

They say, we’ve gone deaf.
I say, I’ve gone blind.
They say, we had a heart attack.
I say, I am dead.

Read Full Post »


By Valentina Cano

She’s wondered if he meant what
he said that night out in their front yard.
The light reflected off his feline eyes,
his mouth becoming a fish-bowl of thoughts.
But she knows
that the truth, whatever it is,
ducks around his voice,
folding itself into the shadows
between his words.
She’s going to have to lure it out
and there might not be enough bait
in this world for that.

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »