3 poems by H.E. Casson

@Mourning Tell us why you are sad/not sad Mad/not mad Conflicted/devastated/glad That ________ is dead (*click here for thread*)   So we can tell you why you’re wrong   It’s wrong to say You celebrate (Would you, in public, masturbate?) The dropping of a megaphone That magnified   (*buffering*)   Your suffering   To die is saintly Faintly praise Or raise them up Or raise a cup But never celebrate/debate Or mirror hate   It’s wrong to say You found your way By looking through the glass Of a villain Once they pass   It’s wrong to dance on graves … Continue reading 3 poems by H.E. Casson

Manifestos: A Prose Poem by Wes Bishop

“Who runs the world?” I ask because I have complaints. The little man tells me the box for such things is down the hall. I stumble, clutching my manifestos. If only the masses would read these typed blueprints for utopia then the world would work, because I am a mechanic for reality! I get to the box, but it is closed. The sign reads— UNDER CONSTRUCTION. SEE WEBSITE FOR DETAILS.   So, I tweet. I post. I comment and I yelp.   I set my phone to vibrate text alert so if anyone comments their digital voice will trip the … Continue reading Manifestos: A Prose Poem by Wes Bishop


In my dreams we were in Charleston imagining apparitions and clowns I wonder how we could devise plans to become ghosts together in a tourist town to scare off kids and lovers alike And seeing how they still wanted us around even The devil horned The pale-blue eyed The predatorial smiles The dirty skinned   A Murder of Crow, A Flight of Snow Geese In Winter’s frigid manner Their feet lifting off from the ground into a frightening flight Wings whirring in the wind To a bleakness up above With a singled eye Blindfolded   To be, but afar from … Continue reading LILITH: PERCHED IN SILENCE by Moriah M. Mylod


Satan’s in the sole of my left shoe We are having a confetti conversation now The words from your lips are bursting in colors of blue, yellow and red Floating pieces that never hit the ground Zenu is my mother Her ship will be here any minute To drop off money just in time for the birth of my baby Jesus The CIA is onto me, they hear and see everything I do and say Are you listening? WE ARE NOT CONNECTED, WE ARE NOT CONNECTED There is a funeral every evening at the head of my bed… But no … Continue reading DARK MATTERS: SCHIZOPHRENIA by Moriah M. Mylod