“You silly little boy.” Silvia laughed at Antonio as she taunted him into a rage. She had challenged him to prove that he was really the man that he boasted to be. If he took her to a 5- star restaurant for a very expensive dinner and bought her a nice gift, he might convince her that he was more than a bragging child. Well then, she just might show her appreciation. “You will be experiencing a real woman for the first time and not one of those little girls that you are used
Nostalgia for Bodies by Lydia Unsworth erbacce-press Liverpool, UK. 2018 Lydia Unsworth’s second collection ‘Nostalgia for Bodies’ is a beautifully detailed photobook of the body and the self before, during and after pregnancy. There are images here, interwoven with feelings, cardboard boxes, scratch cards, bones and motion; all of this can be found in the concise and unpredictable poems that explore a body in transformation. There are four sections to this book: before, duri
The same thing we do to a cigarette
we do to memories as well:
Throughout the night we let it burn,
Then flatten it under our shoes when we rise. We watched the street that winds past
the empty clatter in our parlours, towards the
glaze of cars at the end of sight,
roads reduced to a hyphen. The wind carried fresh news of death.
Televisions lit in their living rooms,
where candles once wept to the ground,
casting silhouettes behind the awnings. Sudden rain wept and d
When Pigs Can Fly one day when pigs can fly we’ll be at peace with males
ancients who deny we are equal to them
assume we are weaklings
flimsy and frail men who rap stale sexist jokes/with stings in the tail
to prick holes in our minds
pierce our intimate skin
such outrageous pains we’re right to outface
those men slice our wisdom
clear from life’s stem and yet
today’s daughters chafe
The Perfect Host i.
at her tea party,
the teddy bear
fell off his chair,
from snapping. ii.
forks, knives & spoons,
polished wine glasses,
no fingerprint traces. iii.
blade against wrists,
for the widow to live. iv.
aged overnight. v.
bathing in acidic tears,
at the bottom
of his teacup. vi.
& angelic harps.
to marble ground.
Dataism 1/ The End of a Beginning Given each organism as a biochemical algorithm
Your life is a programmed process proving
Your consciousness is actually far less
Valuable than a fucking Frankenstein’s AI 2/ The Beginning of an End Through human-computer interface
My mind has become part of a robot
While the robot part of me As data exchanges with
Venus (c) Serge Lecomte I was born in Belgium. We came to the States where I spent my teens in South Philly and then Brooklyn. After graduating from Tilden H. S. I worked for New York Life Insurance Company. I joined the Medical Corps in the Air Force and was sent to Selma, Alabama during the Civil Rights Movement. There I was a crew-member on helicopter rescue. I received a B.A. in Russian Studies from the University of Alabama. Earned a Masters and Ph.D. from Vanderbilt U
Cell Painted faces
In pixel lands
Lost in gleam
In a binary world
Glow in blue
Trapped in blue
Lost the ability
Ones and zeros
Control every decision
Praying to a
Hard drive god
It didn’t know
It was fighting Abigail Kipp is a Master’s of Poetry student at Texas State University in San Marcos Texas. She got her undergraduate degree at New Mexico State University in Creative Writing/Poetry.
Jack Hudson’s motor neurone disease had progressed aggressively. Day by day his physical activities were becoming limited. His wife of 40 years, the adorable Emily, had to help him into a shirt, and it bothered him that he couldn’t reach his shaky arm over to get the sleeves on. It didn’t bother him now, in a windy hangar on a paddock near York, being strapped into a harness and parachute. In fact, he was enjoying the daring of it. The instructor, who had introduced himself a
Leila isn’t grounded forever. When she’s free, when she’s been freed to go, to sleep at the home of any friend she wants—Crystal, Amanda, Idalis, people her father has never met—she takes the city bus across town to the pink and purple attic bedrooms long after dark, after Daddy’s already asleep. Walking from the bus is a danger. Alone at night, she assumes a strength, a steady gait, a powerful new language. Sometimes she is stopped, chased, trapped. Someone comes up behind h