Author: terseeditor

fears, futures, phantasmagorical, funsized.

“She” and “Dear Future” by Marc Shapiro

  SHE   She used to like to do it in the morning When sunlight knifed through curtains Highlighting her movements Cat like Like cool easy jazz Then one day something left her Died A single tear tarnishing cheek It rolled down Moving her into the dark Where she continues

“Ground 0” by Russell Hemmell

I blink, the dormitory’s white light like a slap in my face. My vision cone is restricted to pinhole-sized view but still sufficient to remind me where I am. The hospital room, stinking of chloroform and green waxed sheets, a familiar setting for a feeling that never becomes any easier

“Esoteric Epigrams” by Lorraine Schein

The occult wants you to know that it doesn’t want you to know.    “Reality” is bad for your health. I respect science but prefer the occult.   The unknown does not know it is unknown.   God is one name we give to our ignorance. The other is magic.

“The Most Beautiful Petrol Station in the World” by Oscar Mardell

Art by Kate Shaw     It is the Fiat Tagliero building  in Asmara, Eritrea, planned by Giuseppe Pettazzi, fascist aesthete, and built under his watch in thirty-eight.   On either side the central concrete spire,   are fifteen-metre cantilevered wings, the premature arrival of a future long expired, and stationed

“The Ladder” by Fred Pollack

Art by Kate Shaw The joke you had to explain. The vision that moved no one. The pedantic tone. The embarrassing confession abandoned halfway. When across freshened skies jetpacks jockey and curtsey, and solar-powered dirigibles preside like funny gods, you’re not invited.   It’s possible in your room with effort

“Is this the right way?” by Finn Janning

Art by Kate Shaw   Late one August evening in a small provincial town, a woman steps out her front door. In her hand, she holds a slim leather briefcase, probably containing a laptop. When she steps down from the small landing in front of the door, a mild breeze

“Dream I Had About Never” by Tomasz W. Wiszniewski

Art by Kate Shaw   May 16, 2019. Gone to Rita, saintly brick.   At wit’s end thumbed thru the mall my viscera become tightrope-walking rhombuses. My weariness goes headfirst. I’m divested of all sibilants, clubfooted, the mall seamy and windswept, familiar in a wet casket kinda way. The rain

“zero/one/light/lake/trees  (we’ve been dreaming this for five hundred years)” by Razielle Aigen

Art by Kate Shaw   0   in search of clarity , a definitive all caps nope is preferable  to the conceptual form of you who sleeps with people posthumously.    the you that goes to bed as a one & then wakes up more as a zero .  that

“artifacts” by Wes Bishop

Art by Kate Shaw     when the end came we did not save everything there was barely room for us and so what we deemed us was saved what was not us was left behind and thus we learned who we really were by the mountains of  archives, artifacts,

“Today’s Revolution Brought to You by the Letter ‘B'” by v.f. thompson

Art by Kate Shaw Okay, so now I’m pissed, because I spent an entire morning wandering around the neighborhood, looking up at the skies and waiting for mana to fall and agonizing over how to reduce my thesis into something basic and easily translatable and applicable, and I pass some

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