Issue 102 Fiction Poetry Nonfiction Art + Photography Film Music Books For Creators more
poetry
Editor's Choice
A 3-Way with Heckle & Jeckle
by Mark James Andrews

Serena trips off the bus

white cane first

hitting the concrete lickety-split

her 3rd leg beating out

her signature percussion

ta pa ta pa ta pa.

 

a citizen of public transportation

the public library

she comes to me for Internet

with her custom specs

a lens tube fixed

on the right glass frame

it's her probe

appendage

antennae

her fly's eye dildo for

ta pa ta pa ta pa.

 

She perches her skinny ass

on the sled base chair

to suddenly pop off

rising up

then back down

leaning forward into it

giving the monitor head

her brave new world glasses

pecking the glass flat screen

ta pa ta pa ta pa.

 

Serena waves me over

with the cane aloft

then cane to the floor

a frantic

ta pa ta pa ta pa.

 

An input dilemma

she is jerking

the mouse until

my hand goes down

heavy over her hand

over the mouse

as my chest brushes

her bony shoulder blades

ta pa ta pa ta pa.

 

The pace quickens

two hands

one mouse

her head bobbing

synchronizing

to find the cursor

ta pa ta pa ta pa.

 

We bookmark

the Corvidae Image Gallery

her obsession

imaginary boy friends

ravens

crows

jackdaws

magpies

as she launches

into a side trip story

a 3-Way with Heckle & Jeckle

ta pa ta pa ta pa.

New!
Between Two Bastions
by Sergio A. Ortiz
I am the guestbook pages 
hundreds of people, with a single name 
and many languages, sign.
Elegies chase after me.
I believe in the elephant, if he sings verses,
in music, when it creates itself,
in the flower of the Nile 
when it isolates its soul after death,
in the storyteller, if he takes off his shoes
before lighting the funeral pyre.

I am the earth in clusters of unknown maps,
reason in the consciousness of unconsciousness,
the smell of fingers in the knitted shawl,
the pencil in its paperless orphanage.

I am the fire-eater on death’s mount,
the dancer in the open-air festivals 
of murderous sheikhs who renounce 
their right to my alms.

I am the book of doubt in the Word,
the temple walls with drawings 
of a thousand scenes of passion,
the tired god as he walks the streets alone
carrying the secrets spiders revealed.