Death dreams under the cerulean sky, poolside sun never sets on skin skin settles for the sun sunscreen caught in the cracks carvings etched in blood the pool, the palms, the widespread sky sometimes paradise withholds hatches spare limbs and stumps lost my mind when I took a dip a lifetime … Continue reading
we have known death to be an accident,
but you fondle my grandfather
like a monsoon swiping its knuckle
against the blue cavernous mouth
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Curious as a small boy I crept after him one of these small mornings without him knowing and watched him from a grove of fragrant trees take in the shore and the sea and the edge of the world unfold before him and it was then I knew. My father loved the sea most of all. Continue reading
Stillwater, MN. we ripped stockings into veils for a bruise wrapped lace around each finger, counting glitters painting one another gold in sweet roughness. every first Monday we would explore caverns behind the attic shelf, read spells off music sheets sweep dust into sculptures and write them into song. and when the Midwest … Continue reading
untitled a handwritten sympathy card, delivered to her front door. her slender hands are flaky because the sadness has aged her, not the years. the phrase “she will never be the same” is crude, but she has no desire to break the surface. she’d rather take a knife to her own brain, creating bite-sized pieces of the torment, especially for us to taste. … Continue reading
You found me with a whale stoned & poisoned
in my stomach & stars had crusted my eyes for days.
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For Issue 8 Each editor was asked to pick a theme. Kamden Hilliard will be reading poetry on the theme Crash The Margins and is looking for experimental work from POC and QTPOC writers. Read on to learn more. Kamden Hilliard, our poetry editor for issue 8, is a poet and educator. He is the author of … Continue reading
Tres recuerdos en verso I. The Legendary Children we are all snakes devouring and being devoured by those who remind us we are human II. Apsis there is no perigee where we’re standing but if there is such a thing as witchcraft, use it now before I leave without saying your … Continue reading
Dante come to life
in ripped thumbnail blood fresh from a circuit
around the lightless insides of my skin
at six quarts a minute; mostly all me
and a bit of something not very nice.
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In touching we opened a door we could not close and did not want to. I said sleep in my bed
but I meant tonight not every night still there she was every night I just kept sinking to the bottom like a stone
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The James Franco Review 