Monday, July 9, 2018

July 9, 2018





The Compassionate Neighbor to a Cat
with apologies to Christopher Marlowe
Come live with me and be my cat,
And you can chase the mongrel rat
That scurries on the kitchen floor
And scrapes against my bedroom door.

And you can play with store-bought toys
That make a ringing jingling noise,
And laze upon a chair or bed,
And meow and yawn and stretch and shed.

And I will rub your neck and chin,
And feed you tuna from a tin,
And scratch your back and stroke your tail,
And give you water in a pail.

And I will pat and pet your fur,
And watch you sprawl and hear you purr,
And feel the padding of your paws,
And hear the scratching of your claws.

So if you'd like a place to hide
From sun and rain, and live inside
And laze around, and grow all fat,
Come live with me and be my cat

by Gil Hackel
in volume 6 issue 1

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Monday, July 2, 2018

July 1, 2018







Sometimes Overt, Often Stealth

Let me tell you about my friend,
Fuck You. He's been with me for
so long now that I don't remember
when we met, but he's always been
on the roster, always been in my
ear, always been a presence,
sometimes overt, often stealth.

Let me tell you about my friend,
Fuck You and how I've missed the
way he stiffens my spine and
hardens my resolve, the way he
transforms frustration into fuel
like some kind of deep-set
photosynthesis that only exists
when the circumstances demand.

Let me tell you about my friend,
Fuck You and how he seems to
come around when I need him
the most, when I begin to buckle
and sway from the weight of all
that's come before and what
appears to lie ahead, a tightrope
walk in blizzard conditions.

And let me thank my friend,
Fuck You. Let me thank him for
the steadfastness and the rough
required shoves, for the no-shit
stares and the late night talkdowns,
for getting me this far and for
waiting in the shadows until he's
needed once again.

by Eric Evans
in volume 6 issue 1


Somewhere Between Angel and Gargoyle

i just love that image
of all those old timers
just sitting at the wishing
well in the middle of the mall
with all those glistening coins
thrown in the fountain by romantics
and delinquents sincerely hoping
and wishing for a better existence
and they got that look on their face
with eyes glazed over like please
just leave me the fuck alone and
seen it all and just grateful that
their wives are just giving them
a couple moments shopping
with no crises or psycho
dramas and whether
someone picks them
up or not all good
and like that feeling
of feeling stranded
and no one to be
responsible for
and irrelevant
and doesn't matter
and all the better
a certain kind
of postmodern
wasted and wired
version of buddha

by Joseph Reich
in volume 6 issue 1

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Monday, June 18, 2018

June 25, 2018





The Beagle
with a nod to Alfred, Lord Tennyson
She bites the bone with jowly jaws;
Halts its escape with padded paws,
Flush in the fire of sport, she gnaws.

In quiet triumph up she creeps;
Onto the master's bed she leaps,
And like the happy dead she sleeps.

by Daniel Galef
in volume 6 issue 1

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June 18, 2018






Therapying Thunderstorms

Thunderstorm! Thy thoughtlessness
thrums the throng. Thy thanklessness!
Throttle thy thickening,
that thunderous threadbare thing!
The thermostatic threat,
the thrilling thunder that
thrashes the thicket thick.
Thoughtless thingamajig,
think through the therapy!
Throw thunderclaps thriftily.


---


Robespierre's Ruin

Robespierre's regency
repressed resistance rabidly.
Radical, raw revolution's
result: ruthless retribution
ruined Robespierre's rivals,
ruleless racketeer's revival.
Raiders roared: "Recrimination!
Repressor's rotten reputation
razes, razzes radically,
racking rattler's rabies rally,
rampant rampage, ruptured, rare!
Rope repressor Robespierre!"
Robespierre returned: "Rough raiders!
Royalism's renovators!
Revolution's revelation
requires revitalization!"

Raiders roared: "Resolutely
rumple Roby's raw rump, rudely!"
Robespierre raved: "Reunite,
raze reaction, regicides!
Royalistic relic's rising
requires rough reorganizing!"
roaring, running, restlessly,
rancorous rabidity.
Raiders razed rude racketeer
Robespierre's rabid rear.
Recall, recapitulation:
Robespierre's ruination,
revolutionary rat race:
revolutionaries replaced
resolutely, radically,
rotten Robespierre rascally.

by Alex Dreppec
in volume 6 issue 1

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