Saturday, November 6, 2010

beyond el dia de las muertes issue

hannah linden

The Skull Ring

~ tasha klein

i don't want to
wake your eyes

i don't want to feel them
around my corners
to touch the hole
in my chest
its dark graffiti
and red sugar
even redder
next to your pale skin

forced freedom
the grindance


met at the tip

of a fjord
calving to cleavage

in cinnamon bars of heat.

i miss your blues
like sky, a frozen

in contrails
crisscrossed, plaided, plaited
braids begging for pull

so you pull,



~ trashpo

courtesy of luis gonzalez palma

Anonymous said...

left hand
thumbnail inked black
index & up yrs & ring
inked w/ peace, pinky is an eye

Gerardo Suter

the sabal palm with a pharmacopia of almosts.

i didn't want it
but it seems
to mean a lot to you.

magnetism and resonance
in the gym cracked dawn.
we had a seventh hole pool
break planned but the owners
were home and you
couldn't slice the ball
if you'd been in a deli.
or dili or new delhi.

there's ghosts of a past
you'd rather be
in hanging around. i's dotted,
t's crossed & just in time
for jesus to mount his throne.

bright flash. high wind strikes hard.

you're immortal. nothing you can do about it.

sally mann

six word poem

i'll never do that again, promise.

why do they call
one night
when you spend them lying

vinilio du ule

the most insane of solids

kinetically frozen
liquid, glass
lacks long-range



order the most

of solid


the usness of the nothing ness

jose manuel castro prieto


from a so called flower

The words yield
two hands


thirty pink orchids
only sleeveless shirts
one heart


sowing suffering
will never reap


orange has a shelf life
the tide is no ceiling fan
and even now

jeff brouws


you're just another
son of a bitch
trying to claim ownership
trying to tell me what I should do
how I should live my life
thinking I give a shit
thinking your opinion
matters to anyone
take a look around buddy
everyone's just drinking their coffee
same as any other day

- Rae Pater

jerry ueslmann

1 comment:

Gwendrina said...

The Breatheable Quiet

Tonight we swirl ourselves
into a warm dusk,
wine and firelight.

Your eyes the shade
of bay leaf
heighten the moment
with a keen awareness
of how insecure --I am.

It's not about the mirror
or lost coin
but feeling competent
enough to please.

I look at the moon
distant and half-full,
a white bowl of rice,
holy water
or bare grace

I never seem to taste
but still
you kiss my palm
and bless it
with such sweet approval.