e-revista EgoPHobia - ISSN 1584-6210
[a failed interview with chat gpt] by Sorin-Mihai Grad I tried to find answers to some key questions from the hero of the day and everyone’s darling chat gpt. Unfortunately, its sense of humor is still a work in progress. Below you can read a transcript of our discussion. What nobel prize is beavis most […]
by Douglas Young Mimosa Mitchell was an 85-year-old “pillar of the community” and matriarch of one of the most prominent families in Petunia Springs. Indeed, for generations the Mitchells had been a significant presence among the town’s politicians, doctors, bankers, and accountants. Mimosa’s late husband had long enjoyed the largest medical practice in all […]
by Julian Gallo Luz stands on the balcony, holding the rail and leaning forward, a shaft of the fading sunlight illuminating a strand of hair which billows in the breeze. A few autumn leaves spiral upwards from the street, rotating in the air before catching another updraft and fluttering away. She leans her elbows on […]
Song-objection-obsession, facing a grave not William Carlos Williams’ In a tank, the cited obsession. A prosperous eccentric, war veteran, decides, every once in a while, to steamroll the door of a nearby cemetery,
26. There are a few languages that have a plural form for the already plural number And even for the plural of the plural of the initial plural But no language has a denomination for a more singular than the regular singular
by Kevin Johnson Murillo The Beggar The Giver “The fact of the matter is I have nothing to offer you, my pockets are empty, my shirt coat is empty, my stomach is empty. If I had anything to offer you, I’d give it away freely without a moment’s hesitation. I’ve never been one to cling […]
The ballad. by Paweł Markiewicz The moony, dreamy naiad is awakened, like pearl in the deepest marine finery. She-muser of eternity seeks for hoard. Choir: Muse’s treasure amaranthine-gentle.
God in Dog Years the dog died at the bottom of the stairs at 91 in
Warmth. the penny-pay laundry is swampland in summer, so close and boiled over
Top of the world We’re flying over snow-buried land, flat and tree-less. This desolation is the quickest route between two places where people live.