Tag: poetry

“Bone Collector” by Khalisa Rae

  They say the difference between a hoarder and a collector is that collectors see value in objects others would discard,    while a hoarder believes they need an item to survive. I believe I am a hoarder   of perishable people. Prized possessions my fingers strangled to hold to.

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*)  

“Black White and Blue” by Ana Gardner

        1. The first time a wooden hanger hit my thigh, I crawled into a storybook of Arabian nights, And burrowed through the pages, deep into silence and inky walls   Every story a new home       Save for two.   The tale of an ungrateful boy who

“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

“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.

“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,

“How to Make a Magic Mirror” by Lorraine Schein

NOTE: The following piece is a found poem, excerpted and rearranged by me from an out-of-print book on magic. How to Make a Magic Mirror   The natural fluid condenser is composed of a number of natural materials that have been powdered and mixed together in roughly equal proportions. Each

“Psychic Night” by Lorhenz Lacsa

psychic night your hands have never felt skin that thinks on its own; he intended to trick time, untick the clock, put his clavicle on your lips and you knew.   when he reddened your neck by tracing its shape as if to pin a map for a land to

“Anhedonis, Anhedonia” by Aïcha Martine

  ` I am tired of worrying my youth away, I am tired of being worried, I am tired You want to hold on to it, that certain lightness of being You said child, child: once it goes, never comes your way again ` Simone says “ain’t nobody perfect ’cause

“KEY” by Raymond Gibson

I. shards of a mirror floating downriver the future is a desert you have only what you bring with you I’ll give you one where ice is worth diamonds and honey worth more money is no good here the brazen serpent of the dollar sign has locked upon its tail

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