Meeah Williams

Secret Diary of A Future Sex Crime Victim

I listen closely
to the hair dryer;
it tells me things.

Things I can’t repeat.

I lie in bed, face blank
as a slice of white bread
in the dark.

I try to visualize
a sentence
that cracks the ceiling.

If I didn’t know
you could snap my neck
like a sparrow’s
how would I ever get off?

Sometimes I like to mouth
a pacifier
while being fucked
in the ass.

A certain light I love
will fall through hemlocks
into a bedroom
at 3pm.

Sometimes I imagine
my throat cut
at the moment of orgasm.

I want to be dead, tied,
wrapped in white,
lying in a rowboat
my lover rows to sea.

Marc Carver


When I got on the train
the man was talking
on his phone
and I knew
that he would
still be talking
when I reached
my stop in
fifty minutes.

He was mostly
talking about Bob.

“Yea he’s okay but you know”
he said in a way
that only people
who are used
to talking

He is still talking now
perhaps he never stops
so long as he
has someone
to listen.

My mother would say
he could talk the legs
off a donkey.

This guy could talk the legs
off of thousands.

As I thought about this
I pictured him in a field
with a long queue
of donkeys
and a big pile
of donkey legs
at his feet.

He got off at
Clapham Junction
still talking
and once again
I could see him
in that field.


Benjamin Blake

Summer Rain

I lost track of the time
The days bleed into one
And the burning sidewalks
Are all I know now

Local liquor store smile
Some small excitement
Is better than none
And grows a little more
Each and every time

They venture out in the summer
With children and small dogs
Millefleur dresses
That leave you dreaming
Of the skin that hides beneath

A torrential downpour
Unexpected and sudden
Soaked passersby to the bone
And I laughed
From the beneath the cover
Of the bridge

Jon Bennet

Scaling Down

When you’re a fat man
every meal
is a sin

I walk past a restaurant
and someone is eating
chicken and waffles
or fettucine alfredo
and they’re thin!

How is it possible?
My knees are splitting
like old oak
I can’t breathe
without the aid
of pumps and hoses

I go to the doctor
and stand on the scale

“Doctor, Jesus, look!” I say
and I tear at my clothes
and rip at my hair
such is my grief

But my doctor is wise,
“Stay away from scales,”
he says,
“you’ll live longer.”

Rodney Gardner


Duplication through submission
Numbers tallied through a gem between her legs
Fruition may come through your probing
Perverted penetration and perforation
Subverted and diverted
You, the present resident is bent
Tortured and incorrect

Greetings to you
Abundant redundant fuck
Today is your moment
The armless plastic monarch
Shares her gift with you
A dummy goddess in true beauty
We tolerate no disrespect

Monorchid plastic outside
The soft interior bestows transfiguration
Your essence drains through your toes
New version conclusive
No longer elusive

David Boski

droughts & dry spells

usually the apologies
become meaningless—
I’ve said sorry so
many times now
even I have forgotten
what I’m apologizing for
but I guess
it’s for not feeling
normal enough
to sustain
a healthy relationship
for a prolonged
period of time—
for not adapting
and welcoming
another human being
with the love needed
to do so
and for always
thinking the grass
has to be greener
on the other side
only to realize
that a drought
is inevitable—
the dry spells
are what

Colin James

Renovations in Mauve

The woman had
arranged her men
so she could walk
on their erections
like ladders.
She fixed the cracks
in the ceiling
and briefly considered
changing the color
of the trim.
One young skylight
dripped condensation.
She solved this by
adding an interior
storm window.
Her men are still
emphatically holding
their stomachs in.

David Boski

bedside manner

after we finished, I rolled over
and she asked me to
pour her another drink,
and give her a cigarette.
“listen, it’s 4AM, no more whiskey
and cigarettes, let’s just go to bed.”
“I just let you come all over my tits;
you’re going to give me another cigarette”
she replied firmly.
I laughed and then I
reached for the

J.J. Campbell

as bitter as the life you have slaved away for

it was the kind of
night where you
take the bottle to
bed with you as
nina simone plays
in the distance

you were always
comfortable in the
shadows but now
the shadows are
punching back

god seems as
likely as zeus

suicide is always
an option

even the least likely
hands can find a gun
and the courage

the words don’t come
as easy these nights

where the liquor tastes
as bitter as the life you
have slaved away for

and there’s always
a woman involved

some soulful siren
dancing in the neon

so damn close but
always unattainable