by Oliviu Crâznic translation from Romanian by Nigel Walker and Alina-Olimpia Miron „Unknown are the ways of the Blade. Yet it always shines Red.” Conrad Lorenz, Sanguinarium “I have written to the Bishop. I am waiting on his answer.” The two men took no heed of my words. The dry, early winter wind […]
Dream-Killed Nights smoke like whispers of a dying fire, a cross that cannot stretch the water. I long to travel
(St. Valentine’s Penumbra) by Oliviu Crâznic Back in her holy chamber of secrets, lust and sin, She plays for me the Maiden, the Goddess and the Queen; Mélange of scarlet flowers, she blossoms in my arms And offering me pleasure, she’s gambling with her chance.
by Bob Carlton I Institutional tile. Fluorescent lighting. Distant sounds of doors opening and closing. Click of locks. No echo of footsteps. II A woman steps out of a room and into the hallway. She is wearing sunglasses. I find this odd, though no more so than the fact that she immediately enters […]
Salty My lips taste of salt and of the dreams it took to make you
by Oliviu Crâznic Like every Sunday evening, I exercise my talents, The girls are all around me, the ace is in my sleeve; Well, I was born to win, as scheming is my nature – And on this Sunday evening, I’m up to something big.
State as Ass Summing up of the thoughts: God of Atheism
next to a burrow on this wooded bluff beside the Mississippi singing hymns of well-being for that which lives within perhaps even a goddess yes, the goddess of some small creatures
by Oliviu Crâznic Coming with the resurrection, Casting spells won`t hide the sins; I`m still seeing, in my nightmare, How you’ve cut your bleeding wings.
by Lex Demoncock A big “Sale” sign hung in the window of the Beverly Hills Polo Club. Only a desperate social climber would want to be seen by another desperate social climber wearing that label and only in Hong Kong, that hot-house, demo-model of consumer capitalism the Brits set up to diddle the Chinese Communists. […]