Monday, July 21, 2014

Books books books

On the Fear of Being Swallowed by Literature

I
If there is a heaven, it is made of books. It is the hoarding-house
of thought made literal. Bookcases, of course, made of books,
but also chairs, toilets, windowpanes, and ovens.

There is no cooking in heaven. There is no hunting. What sport
with page-bound deer and doves two sheets to the wind?
My God, even the wind is undulating onion-skin!

From my room, the French window reads Les Fleurs du Mal
and shows me nothing outside. The world isn't evil, it says.
If there is a hell, it's burning us up from below. Every page

will flood with ink till there is nothing left to know. Please
take your seat. God's lit the match. Enjoy the show.

II
Hello out there! I am trapped in the belly of the great whale.
The sun shines through his ivory skin. Around me, the ruins

of a dozen ages, shattered marbles, copper in negligee verdigris,
and rusting nails from a thousand ships at sea.

But the stomach walls of this beast are blank and hungry.
With a flight of quills from a dead albatross

and a generous squid (he, too, wants to leave!), I begin to write:
Hello out there! I am trapped in the belly of the great whale.

by Andrew Kozma
in volume 3 issue 1
Buy a Copy

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Monday, July 14, 2014

A Trip to the Zoo

moo

Giraffes

Did
you
know
giraffes
don't
have
vocal
cords?
That's
why
their
necks
are so
long.
All the
words
they
can't
say
pile up—
one
on
top
of
the
other.
by Bradley K. Meyer
in volume 3 issue 1

Monday, July 7, 2014

Roadtrip memories

Boston Snapshot

Late winter Sunday
mid-afternoon
Boston
mostly Cloudy but mild.
Escape artist in front of Faneuil Hall
hangs upside down, bound in straight jacket and ropes
comic banter to entertain crowd
frequent mentions of his tip jar.
At pivotal moment in the routine
shouts are heard off-stage.
Around the corner comes parade of at least a hundred Tibetans
calling for independence
carrying photos of 107 monks
who have self-immolated.
Houdini tells them to be quiet, eliciting laughs from the crowd.
The marchers form a circle in the square, chanting and speaking for their cause.
Houdini gets free, after much mock-struggling, to wild applause
then, with feet back on the cobblestones, vents his anger:
"Shut up...go home...you're disrespecting street artists."
Police get between him and several young Tibetan men.
Speeches over, they all march back the way they came
towards, perhaps, the T stop near the site of the Boston Massacre.
Houdini and his helpers pack up their equipment
ready for the next of the day's performances.
 
by John Roche
in Volume 3 Issue 1


Monday, June 30, 2014

Nursery Rhyme Time

Hanging Low

When the cow
jumped over the moon,
her milking
dropped in production.

When we looked
we saw that it was
a case of
udder destruction.


***


Quite a Combination
Psychiatry was Joe's degree.
He cared for mental ills.
His brother Bob took on the job
of rectal pains and pills.

They leased a shop. No sign on top
to state their business blends.
With eyes aglow, Bob said to Joe,
"Let's call it odds & ends"
by Richard B. Grenell
in Volume 3 Issue 1


Monday, June 23, 2014

They are a Changin'

The Gen-Y Dude to His Friend with Benefits
with apologies to Christopher Marlowe

Come hang with me and all my bros—
we'll grab some brews and Domino's,
and Netflix The Avengers next.
Later, maybe we can sext.

Ping me and I will ping you back
a link to my IKEA hack;
to really show I give a damn,
I'll even send an Instagram.

What if I get a sweet evite
to party down on Friday night?
Then you, my bangable plus-one,
can watch me playing Temple Run

on my new Android while we eat.
Next day, I'll write an awesome tweet
about how you and I should chill
with Jason, Justin, Josh and Bill.

We'll keep this up a month or two,
and then, the way girls always do,
you'll want that word. I'll say I've said it
by sharing clips I find on Reddit,

pretending like I'm all engrossed
in random Facebook crap you post,
installing Minecraft on your Dell,
and texting "Sup?" and "LOL."

But no... you'll say I'm just a stupid
jerk you met on OKCupid,
and dump my ass. That's how it goes.
I'll keep on hanging with my bros.
by Melissa Balmain
(whose full length book
Walking in on People
is available now!)
in volume 3 issue 1