poems by John Grey
A Dismal Place No joy in the world merely cattle nibbling lush grass sprouting from tilted tombstones in an old historic graveyard.
e-revista EgoPHobia - ISSN 1584-6210
A Dismal Place No joy in the world merely cattle nibbling lush grass sprouting from tilted tombstones in an old historic graveyard.
Four Wheel Drive That moment when you have been on the road so long
by Paweł Markiewicz Exchange of letters between the pundit and the painter The epistle No. 1 as long SMS dispatched The 5th May 2022. At the most picturesque dawn
translated into English from the Russian originals by the author We are Sunday morning, the month of May 2022 is almost over, Saturday night, there was a soccer competition in Paris, this morning the city was full of garbage that the fans had left everywhere, they had even broken tree branches. A jay was lying […]
Not Dead, But Not Quite Living I use time between departures to worry about you, the way we left it.
by Kimberly Nicole Waianae, Oahu 2013 I moved to Hawaii on a whim where I rented an in-law suite on the island of Oahu that smells like a fragrance perfumers have been trying to bottle since ancient Egypt. The sun would set into the ocean during the summer months out of my glass sliding doors […]
Industrial Revolution dedicated to Robert J. Nolan 1. Did Leonardo Da Vinci Endlessly dream of machines? Not his own baroque creations, those Wood and wire winged artworks
by Jason Bentsman Am I destined to become one of these wretches sitting at the café at eleven pm every Saturday night? One is hunched over a little notepad, scribbling something intently. Poetry? Notes? Scribbling something inscrutable with almost affected concentration and intensity. He wears a black […]
by Marcelo Medone In 1975, Borges confessed in a story to having received an infinite page book from a Scottish bible dealer who had obtained it “in the farthest regions of Bikaner”, trading it in exchange for several books that he had treasured as a good bibliophile. This book, called by Borges the Book of […]
by Z. I. Sadeq Take my hand Pentheus Together we’ll run through fields And swim in cool streams Laugh while the gilly fish bite our toes