by Brendan Walsh
is a ghost that you won’t outrun.
no, a beast. matted fur and fangs.
you can only feed it. and it eats
the things you love most. the days Continue reading
by Brendan Walsh
is a ghost that you won’t outrun.
no, a beast. matted fur and fangs.
you can only feed it. and it eats
the things you love most. the days Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Jennifer Klein
I knew it before my own mind
Was deemed wise enough
Their claws bound
My hand against humanity’s
Cold glass wall Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Abdulmueed Balogun
There’s nothing in my heart, tonight,
seeking revenge or forgiveness: absolute
absence of eerie voices & grievous echoes…
No anxiety, whatsoever, on the windowsill
of my battered heart agitating for a chance
to breathe as a storm on my street of thoughts. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Ace Boggess
Question asked by Sarena Fox.
At night, I can
turn the world
to darkness
with a twist,
no having to
tie a sock
around my eyes.
Friday, I walked a lap
of the yard. Just one.
It wasn’t the same. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Lynda Scott Araya
Inspired by Mary Ward
In China, they eat birthday longevity noodles,
Lo mein, pulled thinner than my nerves,
cat-cradle looped over a mother’s hands like a girl’s
primary school game. Koru shaped,
they lie on a floured board,
eight metres long; perfect.
They spiral universes of possibilities, smell of warm milk,
a young baby’s neck.
Later, they are ladled abundant onto plates
and slurped unbroken for a long life to come. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry