poems by Dennis Williams
Pull me up Burden overburden I’m sinking very fast this is more than my fair share of the cross, I must bear.
Caine, Utah, Washington and Maine
by Thomas M. McDade I hitchhiked to Salt Lake City in 1986. I’d just read Jack Kerouac’s On the Road. My adventures were no match for his, no ride in a rig hauling dynamite or truck like he boarded in Iowa City, driver “crazy and yelling,” and definitely not the flatbed loaded with other pilgrims […]
Teofiction
by Ștefan Bolea Open Exodus III. “And the angel of the LORD appeared unto him in a flame of fire out of the midst of a bush: and he looked, and, behold, the bush burned with fire, and the bush was not consumed.” / apparuitque ei Dominus in flamma ignis de medio rubi et videbat quod rubus arderet et […]
Dune
by Ștefan Bolea Denis Villeneuve’s movie, Dune (2021), is based on the first half of Frank Herbert’s cult novel published in 1965. It’s not the first adaptation of the novel. Alejandro Jodorowsky had acquired the rights of the book in the 1970’s but failed to complete the project. David Lynch’s weird, parodical Dune (1984) seemed […]
poems by DB Jonas
Freud in London in the Rain … I thither went With inexperienced thought and laid me down On the green bank to look into the clear Smooth lake that to me seemed another sky.
poems by Vyacheslav Konoval
Winter Like a child, I rejoice a winter, I fly, I run on the first snow like a sprinter, the falling snowballs to life reenter.
their names
by yours truly, the happy recluse I’d like to introduce you to— egoless deities. Their names describe them far more than their physicalities.
Red, Sound—Flight!
by Enit’ayanfe Ayosojumi Akinsanya The Time: 7.30pm, May 2018 Our mother’s head knocks the wall, a dull slam, a single jerky twitch, and then a sliding to the floor. The exact way she used to slide her arm from our grasp—weeks after Papa’s skin burned—and fall back into bed. This was to scare us and […]
poems by Peter Mladinic
As I Look in the Glass Comedians are getting attacked on stage, sailors are committing suicide on ships. As I type this, one of my best friends
poems by James B Nicola
Weeds Movement swells to decadence; Popularity takes tolls, Drains a flood of reverence: In his grave the Founder rolls.