As if anything’s ever
James Wagner is the author of Thrown, Trilce, and the false sun recordings. He lives in California.
You are being followed
by all the wrong people.
A Goliath in lamb’s skin—A bandwidth
of threadbare apron strings. Dusty, unkempt,
tied to the mother-ship—Undercover courier
to self, swept into the vast ocean
of cereal boxes and dreams. Your psyche’s
back-pack lost track of many things, mostly
an avowal to sit on a porch swing
letting a fanfare of moths hum
in the urban lamp-light, tongue deckling
the flesh of a book—where words cross
a continent without you. You were the road
through China Town—Accented vendors
divvying up the tusks. An elephant memory
manic as paparazzi after a bar brawl in neon.
What time is it? It is time for war now.
No need for a wardrobe. You are only a shadow
holding a suitcase. The sooth-sayers have left you
facing the enemy, a mouth duct-taped
by your own rattled hand.
Cynthia Atkins’ second collection, “In The Event of Full Disclosure” was recently featured on the Huffington Post and the Bill and Dave Cocktail Hour, and reviewed in [PANK] and the North American Review. She is an assistant professor of English at Virginia Western Community College, and lives in Rockbridge County, VA on the Maury River with her family.
And in the end
Will the love we make
Be equal to the love we take
Will you still love me
If there are no tomorrows
Will we be repeating patterns
Of someone else’s words
Suspended in the air
Like a song or distant cry
What if someone else said it better
In the end
Will we be ourselves
When we face the unknown ballad
Alexandra Hohmann is a high school English teacher and current facilitator of In The Words of Womyn (ITWOW), a women’s writing circle, in Sylmar, CA. Hohmann is an active member of the Los Angeles poetry/literary community and the author of a self-published chapbook, Wild Heart (2013).
as the meteorite got closer to the earth
the concrete cracked and the tar began to boil
the street-signs bended and the sea let out clouds of steam
the poet put on his swimsuit and sun-glasses
but decided against sun-tan lotion
-a poet should never overdo things
Seb Doubinsky is a French bilingual writer and poet, born in 1963. He currently lives in Aarhus, Denmark, with his wife and their two children.
Book of Psalms, Book 1 (Psalms 1-2)
1. Blessed is the woman that walks alone at night not in the counsel of men, but stands in dark doorways or on street corners and amuses herself with a beggar man who had not had a bit to eat in three days, and leaves him to die of hunger in the street, but sits with the corpse therewith, and keeps close watch upon him and fucks herself while examining him, but does not cum until the day the corpse perishes.
2. And her delight is in the law of Sade; and in his law does she meditate and commit murder day and night.
3. And she shall be like a tree planted by rivers of blood, that bring forth fruit out of season; barren of leaves she maintains her child in his prison cell, toying with him for a long season, gradually diminishing the child’s daily portion of food; beforehand she has him shit, and eats his shit upon a platter; and whatever she does she prospers.
4. Beautiful children are not so: but are like the saliva she likes to suck from the mouth of them and swallow; she develops a passion of immuring her daughter in a closet with food to last no more than a few hours; on the thirtieth day, she enters her little daughter’s closet and fucks herself upon the corpse.
5. Therefore the ugly children she would flog, then later kill them by depriving them of sleep, nor ugly men, since she was once a great cock-fucker; and now she gives the men a venereal disease by injection, but of such virulence the men croak on very short order.
6. For Sade knows the way of the righteous: her whole delight consists in watching a man swim, but she now casts him into a pond and fishes him out half-drowned, then hangs him by his feet to encourage the water to drain out of him. Once he has returned to his senses, into the pond he goes again, and so on and so forth, until he dies; and the way of ugly men shall perish.
1. Why in former times would she impede respiration by constricting the neck of her husband with her hands or by blocking the nose and mouth, but these days the people imagine it vain that she deposits the man-pig between four mattresses and he suffocates.
2. The kings of the earth set themselves, and take rulers out and measure their cocks together, against Sade, and annoyed, she says she allows a candle to burn out in her girlfriend’s ass; but tonight, she will attach her to a lightning rod during a thunderstorm and await a fortuitous stroke.
3. She breaks men’s hands asunder, and casts away her umbilical cords before birth; she whips pregnant women’s bellies, and perfects that passion by causing an enormous weight to fall on a pregnant woman’s belly, thereby crushing her and her fruit at one stroke.
4. She that sits on a dead cop’s face shall laugh: she adores burning gunpowder on the cock, but has since improved her passion: she attaches a slender but attractive boy to a large rocket, the fuse is ignited, the rocket ascends, then returns to earth with the boy still attached.
5. Then she speaks unto them in her wrath to fuck, and vexes them in her sore pleasure: she flogs their breasts and neck; refines her passion: she aims a blow of a crowbar at their throat, it fells them forever.
6. Yet she sets her clitoris upon the holy hill of her personal Sybian.
7. She declares a decree: Sade has said unto her that she is his daughter from the day she aborts her sons for pleasure.
8. Ask of her, and she shall give you abortions for your inheritance, and the lowermost parts of her body for your use, a woman whose caprice consists in getting her ass fucked and in nothing else, poisons all her fucks; she is presently on her twenty-second in ten days. Never will they fuck her except in the ass, nor has she ever been fucked otherwise.
9. She shall break their rods with iron; she shall dash their balls to pieces like a potter’s vessel.
10. Be wise now therefore, oh ugly men: be instructed, she is a pegger, equally skilled in alchemy and witchcraft, and uses a substance which causes death after inconceivable torture; the death throes last a good two weeks, and no doctor has ever been able to diagnose or treat the ailment. She takes the keenest pleasure in paying you a visit while you are in the toils.
11. Serve Sade without fear, and rejoice with trembling.
12. Kiss your son, hard on the mouth, with tongue, and plot his perish in this way: abuse his breasts to perfection, then poison him, and any man, infant or child, by letting him suckle in desperation on your breasts. Your wrath to fuck will be kindled a little. Blessed are all you put to death who put their trust in her.
Steven Trull is a writer living in San Francisco.