Poetry

 

The Freshness of the First and Foremost of the Finest of the Lines

All philosophies condense to a line, with time, and all songs dwindle to a single sooty melody and even if you sawed the locks off your senses even...

The Chief Managing Director Has a Few Requests

I I want a dirtier sunset with tar and molten waste Got it? Give me sewer pipes that spew and rusty black scaffolding dewed with distillate of...

cradled over cold rails into the 21st century

Hello, I’m Stef-Stef Whacket, and I come from your planet, just another sperm walking this flooded toilet, frankensteined from genetic alphabet and...

dancing in a cage wheeled through a forest of eyes

Outdoors the air is hostile and nervy, it bothers glam willows and the swan navy, and me, a slug hunched in a shell jacket, haunting the canal and...
Cherry

O O

way back at the beginning of time all reality except us was a cold corporate hallway and her body was my daily bread we made the trees shout before...

you

okay let’s see you’re in debt your significant other left you for a profile pic you feel most alive when you’re on drugs I know you you failed the...
Cherry
Pick of the Month

Rise and Fall of the One-Man Empire

I unsolved a few mysteries (a good night’s work) then strutted the morning streets with a candle in my head, half-believing that everyone was...
1 likes

Some Days Even Water Gives Me a Hangover

but here I lean swigging black beer listening to colleagues diss cocaine and curse and reminisce about the binges of yore every drink hardens my...

Reminder

Apart

Unless she focuses, the universe reverts to void. Unsettled by emptiness, she creates an apartment: oddly familiar walls and couches coalesce, and...
Cherry

The Thief & The Thief

Night and day are like two table racquets smacking Gerhardt back and forth, and every contact with the blue or black paddle ages him visibly. At 19...
1 likes

Song of Discipline

You have to cultivate obsession. Read dirt and decode clouds. You must become detective of your own mind, and uncover the gruesome secrets that’ll...
Gold cherry
Poem of the week

Exhaling Stars

I exhale galaxies in my sleep. Behold my right hand: its fingers are light years apart, five pale towers clothed in gulls and clouds. On each...
2 likes

Black-Collar Worker

Hot evening in my pet rotting parkette: I notate as chubby bugs buzz through foliage above an impromptu bohemian jamboree like a dystopian Midsummer...