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

“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 out of greed killed his wife and mother Left me cold and angry The man who cut off his sister’s hand made me crumple the pages.   I grieved for those women, wise and good and wronged But wondered how they were so resigned to their tragedy Sad about their … Continue reading “Black White and Blue” by Ana Gardner

“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 to do it In silhouette In emptiness Alone       DEAR FUTURE   I am Juan I am barrio I am Washington I am ghetto I don’t ball I don’t bang I am the neighborhood freak And I have the beatdowns to prove it I see a future  In … Continue reading “She” and “Dear Future” by Marc Shapiro

“i found a dead poem and watched it rot” by Neha Maqsood

    in the purple hued sunsets of london, I found a poem dead, its words crystallised to form bones. we observed, picking the letters through our teeth. the most carnivorous of us searched for the femur. they told us not to look too long at the corpse, ‘shove it in the morgue, keep it cold’ they said. don’t look at the rotting carcass of obscure words, they said. not because its traumatizing, but because of how mundane and ordinary it is. unremarkably similar to life.               Neha Maqsood is a journalist who has … Continue reading “i found a dead poem and watched it rot” by Neha Maqsood

“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 moon is a reminder of the almost forgotten.   Poets and witches are machines built for similar energies, but at different intensities.   Poets are receivers, witches are transmitters.   Magic is control of the cathode ray of reality, and some can tune in to any station.    … Continue reading “Esoteric Epigrams” by Lorraine Schein

“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, and ways of being, that we left for the destruction   what was not we was who were them, and the gulf between, was engulfed in a difference between necessary preservation and required oblivion   why had we worn for so many years the cultures of another? we had learned … Continue reading “artifacts” by Wes Bishop

“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 of the ingredients has its own potent and unique association with the Moon. It is not strictly necessary to use all of the things listed, but at least half a dozen of the ingredients, or reasonable substitutes for them, should be combined. Very little powder is needed, scarcely more than … Continue reading “How to Make a Magic Mirror” by Lorraine Schein

“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 conquer, you quivered. A flag waved, he knew.   then slowly he entered with both a vow for something and a doubt somewhere— what’s missing and found, no one knew.   so you stared at the blank wall as he did, spaced by warm sheets, wounded alone. Smokes warped and … Continue reading “Psychic Night” by Lorhenz Lacsa

“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 ain’t nobody free” Couldn’t be perfect, lightness forbid, could never be free I am tired of worrying my youth away, I am tired of being worried, I am tired ` Only have my words, warping the Eye turned toward the world Yearn to reach those masterful heights, paralyzed by victory … Continue reading “Anhedonis, Anhedonia” by Aïcha Martine

“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 and greed boundless eats the world II. gold may be deafening but cannot buy silence leave the silver to corpses’ eyes let no metal bind how many silver stars can you pluck from the sky what coin can outweigh the sun let no metal bind throw gold at time you’ll … Continue reading “KEY” by Raymond Gibson