Bowen understands text as
annotated suicide note. He looks
not unlike R.L. Stevenson. Consumption
written into the contract. Unnatural
fires of collapsed lungs.
Said to be an Aitu, a white ghost.
He haunts 16 Chepstow Place he haunts
the Suicide Club he raises all the demons
of this town.
By Iain Sinclair.
we may think we are the suncrowned roosters
but the flint of our every step
ignites and mummifies the cold cut pollos
like a newborn artifact—
undiscovered ringent species—
one lime green shoe
still left on.
By Sammie Clifford.
The body on hisher beauty
& the bodice on ours, others, pressed
Brief care awhile, a little further again others pressed
All that is wife
All that is infinite – in the passing hour, it seemed
Long & useless elegant gloves
& weren’t all
These careful interests & conditions just eva
I LOVE DICK
By Jared Joseph.
And this one fag framed
a bunch of what-if-they
were-gays to let loose at
long last his fantasies
By Cody Laplante.
My sweet den near Taria Nirvaan
Became a center for all sorts of creatures,
Singers, poets, dandies, artists, nobles,
Where we spoke Uzbek and Spanish, Mongolian, English.
I wed Graf Itemirus, native of Navoi.
We went to Bissekty. He poisoned me, I think.
Now in the Mozoriston bone-bed, overlooking
The shore where young Tiktaalik dreamed new worlds,
See what they scratched: “Grafinya Itemirus
So’rov abadiy tinchlikuzbe.”
By JT Welsch.
but because in love we imbue the value
of goodness, of workings in life
that possess nice sentiments- we think making
love as linguistic reference will mean
that idealism would manifest in the real.
but this is only talk: everything we only say
is only talk, of no more veracity
than a mindless touch- but lucky you
elucidation means we are more than just
automata, even if this is only due to that
human language is seen as the apex
By Ji Young Lee.
static imperatives fill the silence with constant chatter.
but even words you trust won’t stay where you send
them. you want to go home to paint, to find comfort
in that public privacy, then walk around naked singing
gloomy sunday, not billie holiday’s truffled number,
but the hungarian suicide version until you can
memorize the paralysis, what it means to be in a room,
with her, sitting next to you.
By Jax NTP.
Black line is longer than the previous but it starts earlier than the previous so it is even longer than the previous.
Black line of length equal to the previous one at the ends but starts earlier than the previous so it is longer than the previous one.
Black line of length equal to the previous one but shorter than the previous one because it starts later than previous.
By Voldoymyr Bilyk.