Readings
︎︎︎ Cletus Crow
︎ Oct 22, 2024
in the east village
skaters break bones
as old asian women
sway taichi steps away
in tennessee I have
three hundred acres
it's not shared space
except hungry deer
someone will walk by
my kingdom of trees
and never leave me
is what hope is like
the dusty tire swing
the sexy skyscrapers
wherever wherever
i want the flesh warm
skaters break bones
as old asian women
sway taichi steps away
in tennessee I have
three hundred acres
it's not shared space
except hungry deer
someone will walk by
my kingdom of trees
and never leave me
is what hope is like
the dusty tire swing
the sexy skyscrapers
wherever wherever
i want the flesh warm
Cletus Crow is a poet. His debut full-length collection, Phallic Symbols, is available from Pig Roast Publishing.
Also by Cletus: EX-GIRLFRIEND
GOOF
︎︎︎ Zoe Contros Kearl
︎ Oct 21, 2024
I’m trying to learn how to give less away—
New England, all stoicism, stone walls built
by hand hundreds of years ago, now mossed,
promises and shoes tied the wrong way.
One night dead late wake in darkened
room: on the ribcage, a tick swollen
with my own blood. Rilke in springtime,
louvered windows, tactile nature, in fear
I pull it wrong, head and pincers lodge,
WebMD says “mouth parts,”
trade the ice for the itch.
At Town Meeting kick snow from Muck boots,
thumb budget documents, adverts, page
upon page of why how when. Soon, tend
the land, mulch and prune, repair rot, sand
and paint old eaves, wave
at each passing car.
—I am obvious, easy, new
growth follows each cutting.
New England, all stoicism, stone walls built
by hand hundreds of years ago, now mossed,
promises and shoes tied the wrong way.
One night dead late wake in darkened
room: on the ribcage, a tick swollen
with my own blood. Rilke in springtime,
louvered windows, tactile nature, in fear
I pull it wrong, head and pincers lodge,
WebMD says “mouth parts,”
trade the ice for the itch.
At Town Meeting kick snow from Muck boots,
thumb budget documents, adverts, page
upon page of why how when. Soon, tend
the land, mulch and prune, repair rot, sand
and paint old eaves, wave
at each passing car.
—I am obvious, easy, new
growth follows each cutting.
Zoe Contros Kearl is a writer and editor raised in Texas and based in Vermont. Recent writing can be found in Action Books Blog, Los Angeles Review, Maudlin House, Tupelo Quarterly, and elsewhere. ZCK currently serves as Editor for American Chordata Magazine and works in solar energy.
Also by ZCK: SEPT 5
Also by ZCK: SEPT 5
Barcelona
︎︎︎ Chelsea McCarthy
︎ Oct 17, 2024
I don't know anything
my dad isn't my dad
he's dead and alive
all at once
I am under someone's tattoos
bleeding on hotel sheets
it's a full moon.
my dad isn't my dad
he's dead and alive
all at once
I am under someone's tattoos
bleeding on hotel sheets
it's a full moon.
Chelsea McCarthy is a multi-faceted creative residing on a small island in the Pacific. Navigating realms, she moves with a sense of wonder and awe. Currently embracing an era of saying yes and trusting herself, you can find her here and there.
Also by Chelsea: List of reassuring things
The Clownish Elite
︎︎︎ Lillian Mottern
︎ Oct 15, 2024
Outside the McDonald’s on Delancey and Essex I noticed that my lover’s hands had turned to glass. We were stood waiting for a taxi to get there and the yellow sheen coming from inside the McDonald’s caught on her fingernails like stage lights. In my dream last night, I was dancing dumb pig ballet as you recited your nonsense poetry for our friends, and as such, I was arrayed in red hot lipstick and the costume of a girl-clown. I did not sweat, I found myself quite repulsive, but I kept on.
Honestly? Margaret? Honestly? If I’m being totally honest? I think I lost it when I let you read my diary. Most of what was in there was made up anyway. Sleep well / I’m sorry / I’ll leave my lipstick on your pillows, and wrap your hands in silk before I leave in hopes that they won’t break in the night.
Honestly? Margaret? Honestly? If I’m being totally honest? I think I lost it when I let you read my diary. Most of what was in there was made up anyway. Sleep well / I’m sorry / I’ll leave my lipstick on your pillows, and wrap your hands in silk before I leave in hopes that they won’t break in the night.
Lillian Mottern is a writer from Los Angeles, now living in New York, where she curates the reading series Chinese Dollar Store. Her criticism and fiction have been published in The Big One, Waif, Wigleaf, The Living Room, and The Foundationalist. She is co-editor of Perennial Magazine and has an MFA in Playwriting from Columbia University. @lillianmottern
My appeal
︎︎︎ Shae Sennett
︎ Oct 12, 2024
There was someone pushing buttons
of the monkeybrained operation
but I forgot where he went,
totally high tailed his butt out
and now he’s… like… what?
Mad at me for not reaching out?
I heard whispers about this,
I heard tell and no-telling
who she said he said
that’s what I’m saying!
It was a game of telephone
and it was cuckoo bananas. No, really
I think he’s using a banana as a telephone.
The call’s coming from inside the banana bro!
Bro was telling all types of tails to me
Spinning yarn banana into long banana
straw banana into gold banana
silver banana into grambanana
Ivory banana into Grand Piana
Sonatas in C like spell ICUP
Spell in-cup, actually, like sea monkey
like monkey see monkey do what i gotta do
Poke monkey with stick, monkey around a bit
throw shit at wall, see what sticks
go bananas, chimp out, fun word play around…
This is a fun word playground
and that was some monkey bars
And now im in banana jail
Please let me out.
Just kidding. There is no point in a peel (aha)
But here we are. Two naked guns
Hanging banana like we hang tomorra
Can you believe this was a love story all along?
I don’t get it, but I’m not saying bananas again.
That’d be the monkey chasing its tail for real
just in time for a tail image here. The end!
of the monkeybrained operation
but I forgot where he went,
totally high tailed his butt out
and now he’s… like… what?
Mad at me for not reaching out?
I heard whispers about this,
I heard tell and no-telling
who she said he said
that’s what I’m saying!
It was a game of telephone
and it was cuckoo bananas. No, really
I think he’s using a banana as a telephone.
The call’s coming from inside the banana bro!
Bro was telling all types of tails to me
Spinning yarn banana into long banana
straw banana into gold banana
silver banana into grambanana
Ivory banana into Grand Piana
Sonatas in C like spell ICUP
Spell in-cup, actually, like sea monkey
like monkey see monkey do what i gotta do
Poke monkey with stick, monkey around a bit
throw shit at wall, see what sticks
go bananas, chimp out, fun word play around…
This is a fun word playground
and that was some monkey bars
And now im in banana jail
Please let me out.
Just kidding. There is no point in a peel (aha)
But here we are. Two naked guns
Hanging banana like we hang tomorra
Can you believe this was a love story all along?
I don’t get it, but I’m not saying bananas again.
That’d be the monkey chasing its tail for real
just in time for a tail image here. The end!
Shae Sennett is a writer whose film journalism has appeared in Slash Film, Screen Slate, Mars Review, and other publications. Her poems have appeared in Ex Pat Lit Journal and her debut play Last Night Was a Play had two sold-out off-off Broadway runs last winter. Her first short film Times Square Love Story will be streaming on NoBudge in October.