e-revista EgoPHobia - ISSN 1584-6210
A Forgotten Space I watch the world through glasses made of lead. Their cold, gray vision proves most accurate, if top-heavy. A great deal of weight to carry, I rest often, lying in pools of pessimistic slush. My body begins to emulate the texture of seepage, dreams of becoming quicksand, waits patiently for the […]
by Mitchell Grabois When, onstage, the Who’s Peter Townshend began smashing his guitar, he was looking for a sound that summed up existential truth. When Toto Fez, leader of the Ceades of Distruction, a local Chippahitchka band, followed suit, he was thinking of splitting wood and of his time in prison.
by Jenean McBrearty Rachel watched the skinny-dippers with sad eyes though her eyes were smiling, pained that they were free. they had more than written rights. these American with their loud laughter and wonton mindlessness. Their clothes were patriotic—everything red, white and blue—even their racing silks sported stars with the stripes. The […]
by Dan Dobrin Millenia ago, on a remote planet, a battlefield among many others, raged a war of destruction and protection. The bloodiest documented war, between the original races. While the Inquisitors, the Original Evil, sought to destroy this planet full of nothing more than just a few mindless creatures, whose only purpose was […]
by Oliviu Crâznic Awakened I was sleeping when you entered my chamber, So beautiful and naked – the first rain of July… Your body moved in whispers and tenderly you’re saying, Rose lips close to my ear: “Tonight just you and I…”
by Tantra Bensko The stoney spheres feel the force of their own cemented sand. It weighs them down. They reach their mind into the deep deep ground. Through layers of porous sand and carbonates. They are that deepest ground 6 million years ago. What is time to a Trovant? They breathe in and […]
by Gherasim Luca translated from Romanian by Ştefan Bolea I am free so I can pay attention to the things around me my fingers shivering like poplars, short as bullets squeezed firmly the woman’s white neck like ancient poets were squeezing in their usual love fits for nature flowers – sheep – field […]
Kiss I lifted the September soap and began to sponge my closest companion that I knew all too well, but never in this manner.
by Oliviu Crâznic The summer breeze is spreading the infection; You play the piano as I play the violin… We light the torches to restrain the shadows – Once the End over, something else begins.
W.E.N. S .: A Rotating Poem West: not unlike a giddy goat wandering among the ruins of a long lost civilization you keep searching