Select Page
Mornings

Mornings

I think about you in the mornings, when the light is grey and the air still dewy. I think about you when I sip my coffee, when it scalds my tongue and I grimace. I think about you when I look across the room at the bare far wall, when I listen to the clock go tick,...
Coffee By The Creek

Coffee By The Creek

By Michael Bartlett Coffee by the creek. Feeling the sun’s love as my skin burns. Ants raid the plastic lid for chocolate sweet rations. Their actions speak loud through my words, though still go unheard. And as they plunder my waste, I’m left wondering,...
Five Philosophical Stages Of Political Grief

Five Philosophical Stages Of Political Grief

By Mitch Alexander Solipsism – Phew, it’s super lucky that literally none of this is likely to be real, because if the world actually existed and was really this bad, I’d probably go hysterical with despair. Unfortunately, this raises a few troubling questions...
A Sextet Of Haiku

A Sextet Of Haiku

By Richard Handler Is it ironic That vegans can eat pussy But not tinned tuna? Hairy bushes ya’ll Remington for a reason Sorry not sorry I ejaculate With volcanic power, see Mostly on your tits Rectum royalty? No, she will not allow it Hashtag – just a...
Mother Nature Shakes Her Etcho-Sketcho

Mother Nature Shakes Her Etcho-Sketcho

By Chad M. Horn she scribbles in sand with orange feather belly-sprawled like an exhausted swimmer or beached mermaid. Such poetic weather sonnet moon controlled the tide. A shimmer of sweat-beads sparked ethereal glimmer and highlighted elongated lashes sand-steam...