Tag: Issue Three

Issue Three December 2016

Table of Contents – “the transforming issue” Kelly Neal — “text as flirtation”, “unstable” Kevin Ribble — “Awoken”, “No Doubt”, “Earth at Perigee” Elliot Dresden — “1.”, “2. Reflection in Requiem” Mary Kate Crowe — “Mad Mary” Massimo Stirneri — untitled poems Alix Bosley — “Bone-Snapper”, “Autumn” Ali Znaidi — “A Breach” Gökçe Durgun — untitled art Vasilina Orlova — “Poems in a Male Voice” Finn Padden — “Not Quite Sunrise” Brittany Barnes — untitled art (2 pieces) DeanJean — “The Sea, The Sea”, “Fir Tree”   Download PDF

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“text as flirtation” and “unstable” by Kelly Neal

text as flirtation I cannot read semaphore’s flags’ sharp angles and pops anymore than I can translate my desire into a clarity across the sea dividing my heart and yours. The distance between what I say and how I long to mouth my words along your skin with open kisses, until you whisper your primal name into the imagined storm’s night, prevents me from muttering more than words draped in metaphor’s silk upon this page for you to decipher into a singular understanding. unstable “the millstones  commenced their grinding again”                    …

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“Awoken”, “No Doubt”, and “Earth at Perigee” by Kevin Ribble

Awoken Unjust thoughts Lying prostrate Stretching thin like The toes of a cat A dreamlike state (No – just like a dream) Basking and waiting Like willows unadorned Seeping, seething Just below conscious weight Catechisms gone mad as I watch and behold instinct Compare and wonder What of those who imagined The First Thoughts of man When becoming aware for the first time Their Being now becomes Undone to the wherewithal of Light Unmasked – a treasure of his own tomb Casting to dawn the knowledge of Self as one. No Doubt I am an enfilade of sunlight Cast its…

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“1.” and “2. Reflection in Requiem” by Elliot Dresden

1. What it means to her I cannot say.                     She knew him for a year                    or two                      maybe five                                       or ten, but barely a second could go by     without that aching burn,         I imagine, a blackening briar battering its body cage splintered—that wrenching pain of nothing…

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“Mad Mary” by Mary Kate Crowe

Mad Mary I’ve been told that I come from a long line of mad women named Mary the first, Mary the Witch, refused to drink the blood of Christ and instead filled her body with the blood of hens she dug her nails into the earth as if she could revive the pagans buried in the dirt the second, Mary the Zealot, atoned for the sins of the woman before her with rosaries and an iron brand her fingers clasped, her hands cracked, her knees bloody she was endlessly devoted to cleansing herself of a stain only she and her…

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untitled poems by Massimo Stirneri

really a misunderstood failure, flourishing considered in that light a raving struggle for tiny pieces of land in the vast well around the room fallow rake the talents today refers to biased reflections about the saint or the martyr white crystalline clock ticking it measures the words spoken by the character resonated the same young both nude beginner lets down rear views her insight has been sold your noise level is fictional ekphrasis Massimo Stirneri is Italian. He spends time writing and playing with visual arts. His works have appeared in online publications including Otoliths, Tip of the Knife, and…

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“Bone-Snapper” and “Autumn” by Alix Bosley

Bone-Snapper My love, I am a vorant beast— a gnash of clever, tiny, raucous teeth that rip the skin and grate the soul and snap such tenuous, little bones as make up arms to cling and hold. The marrow and the hollowed core— I’m always, always wanting more. Autumn The waning moon lights upon the weald whose ramiferous sinew twists, gold-bristled, not yet bare, but leaving bones exposed, welcomes winter with open arms. Alix Bosley writes poems about midnight, bones, and the anxious sinking feeling that she sometimes gets in her chest. She is in her mid-twenties and lives in…

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“A Breach” by Ali Znaidi

A Breach   A fracture sometimes takes the shape of a facture. A fact is sometimes prefabricated in an obsolete factory.   This is not an absolute poetic breach.   Metaphorically, a harbour of dangerous intertextualities.   —A junction of pleasures. Ali Znaidi (b.1977) lives in Redeyef, Tunisia. He is the author of several chapbooks, the latest of which is Mathemaku x5 (Spacecraft Press, 2015). For more, visit aliznaidi.blogspot.com.

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“Poems in a Male Voice” by Vasilina Orlova

Poems in a Male Voice Straw Sleep is excess I was adamant I insisted I also noted that she ate too fast The city was in a blue mist, twisted, In dusk and dust “Must I Drink a cocktail through the straw?” She asked. You must drink anything no more, And in the world her long transparent straw And scarlet strawberry distinctly coexisted. Tigers What is this fascination, I asked, with robots, lilies, Grasses, and tigers? Nothing, really, She whispered, It all is not about tigers or lilies, Neither it is about robots or grasses. Parakeet Cabaret Voltaire, Ballet mécanique,…

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