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

“Frankenstein’s Postpartum Depression” by Micaela Walley

“Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change. The sun might shine or the clouds might lower, but nothing could appear to me as it had done the day before. A fiend had snatched from me every hope of future happiness; no creature had ever been so miserable as I was; so frightful an event is single in the history of man.”    It isn’t hard for me to imagine that childbirth, from start to finish, could be the premise of a great horror story. When I was ten years old, my mother gave … Continue reading “Frankenstein’s Postpartum Depression” by Micaela Walley

“In the Endless Perfection of Your Absence” by Sahar Khraibani

It is here, in this specific spot, across from this sky, here, where it all began.   Monday, January 30, 2017 at 2:23 PM. Beirut, Lebanon. I have not written about the sea in a while. It has become increasingly harder to think about it, to imagine it, to smell it. I went around telling people that I am taking a hiatus from it being my subject. It being the Mediterranean, the only sea I have ever been in close contact with. I was terrified of repetition, of sounding like a broken record, of writing something I don’t understand. What … Continue reading “In the Endless Perfection of Your Absence” by Sahar Khraibani

“The Transfer” by Julie Rea

Hannah’s husband, David, was watching a live interview of the deceased creator of Transference. “Hey,” Hannah said, her long, red, threaded-with-grey hair braided close to her head. She collapsed onto the couch, tired after a day of teaching. “Oh, right,” she said of the interview. “I heard that she died.” “Yep,” said David, scratching his beard. Although Dr. Jimenez was dead and had Transferred in her eighties after becoming terminally ill, she appeared on the monitor in the news studio as a deeply tanned woman in perhaps in her forties. Dr. Jimenez’s daughter, actually in the studio and looking like … Continue reading “The Transfer” by Julie Rea

The Chemistry of Mayson W. Burnham and His Surrounding Universe by Cavin Bryce

    Ninety-nine percent of Mayson W. Burnham is composed of these following elements: oxygen, carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, calcium, and phosphorus. Roughly zero point eighty five percent of the Mayson W. Burnham is composed of potassium, sulfur, sodium, chlorine, and magnesium. As with all matter, an incredibly minute amount of  Mayson W. Burnham is composed of absolutely nothing- we’ll estimate here that 0.0001% of Mayson doesn’t even exist on an atomic level, that 0.0001% of him is utterly void of measurable building block materials.  Mayson W. Burnham is probably a physicist. Or a carpenter. Or a delivery man. Unless he … Continue reading The Chemistry of Mayson W. Burnham and His Surrounding Universe by Cavin Bryce

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

I Burned You a CD {Part Two}: A Psychopompous Samhain by M. Perle

              🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤   🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️ CLICK FOR “PLUTO SHITS ON THE UNIVERSE”   👻     🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇 🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇   CLICK FOR THE STORY OF “THE VIPER”   CLICK FOR HOTEL NOTE                   Continue reading I Burned You a CD {Part Two}: A Psychopompous Samhain by M. Perle

Cyber Pamphleteer: Imagined Stations, A Poem by Wes Bishop

  They insert their hands in my mouth, these passerby pedestrians in the in-between electric places that simultaneously exist but do not exist, (much like a deceased living cat in a physics experiment), and with errant fingers feel my tongue reading my words like braille chiseled on electric, hovering boards of keys. These strangers, bathed in blue white light, wade next to me in pools of infinite connectivity.   And they like me, and they share me, and they give me plenitudes of hearts, thumbs, and winking yellow faces, never before seen in other realms but the face of us … Continue reading Cyber Pamphleteer: Imagined Stations, A Poem by Wes Bishop