poems by Ayaz Daryl Nielsen
personal mud pies mulch of my earthen history
e-revista EgoPHobia
personal mud pies mulch of my earthen history
The Television The television talks to nobody. (Nobody is home, and nobody is listening.) Why does it press on, forecasting scattered showers when nobody will be around to see it,
by Oliviu Crâznic In my mouth – a taste of iron, In my eye – ERASE/REPEAT; Best served cold, this baneful silence – Falsehood favoring deceit.
The Ditch Here a journey ended Water runs through the bones Attempting the ultimate cleansing Of a lost soul.
All If I loved Jesus any more than I loved God wouldn’t that be like adultery –idolatry I mean, at Sunday School Miss Hooker’s my teacher and she swears God
by Petre Țiplea edited by Diandra Sovailescu There was always a problem with I. With Me – equally, but most of the time with I. I had issues with me. Big ones. The kind that always gave me trouble. I’ll admit that myself – well, I – was a difficult type of person. I remember […]
by Macgregor Douglas The fear is real. I know I’m in a world of trouble and I must escape. I hear them, standing a few beds down, as if they think that I can’t tell they’re talking about me. This might be some sort of otherworldly, extraterrestrial hospital and I might well be a patient, […]
Shame versiunea română Overnight, someone has epoxied a bright pink dildo onto the Virgin Mary outside the Sacred Heart Church. It’s Sunday. From the café window I watch a woman cover her son’s eyes and make the Sign of the Cross
Only a wee wee bit, you loathe life – It’s me, what else – See those slender girls sitting on the bridge, Too close to where they ban light:
by Călin Torsan translated from Romanian by Mihai-Andrei Fulgescu ― Mommy, mommy! See, this rock looks like one of the three piggies from the cartoons! Right? Indeed, there was a sculpture occupying the middle of the exhibit hall that could be interpreted like this. Nevertheless, the mom went the extra mile and whispered to her […]