by Carl Miller Daniels the clatter of tiny reindeer hooves awoke the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy. it was christmas eve, and, despite the promise of new clothes and telecommunications gadgetry, all the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy was really thinking about was his own big hard throbbing dick, and, um, er, well, this did …
Category Archive: Poetry
Sep 15
who ya like better? gauguin? or caravaggio?
by Carl Miller Daniels when sitting in warm yogurt, virginia, and gravitating toward the moon, the two sexy naked big-dicked boys looked around their college dorm room, and were delighted with the collection of stuff that they had crammed into their snug little room: balls of newspaper, and wads of string, old brightly painted tennis …
Sep 15
frequency of intercourse
by Carl Miller Daniels i am the barbarian battering at the gate. my teeth are sharp, and covered with gargle. my fingernails are ready to tear civilization into tattered shreds, and fill in the gaps with pauses. i will demolish existing power structures. i will smash approval ratings. i will tie up sexy squirming young …
Sep 15
The Smell.
by Matthew Pasquarello This is not the worst But certainly not the best The woman smells Of everything that is not a woman Of sweat and whiskey Of gun smoke and gunpowder Of volcanoes and peer pressure Of fire and brimstone Of intelligence and idiocy Of cigarettes and candy canes Of adolescence and adulthood, Senior …
Sep 15
The Last Man On Earth
by Frank Walsh Looks like I am the last man on Earth as if an atom bomb dropped not here but over New York maybe I’m the only one left until of course wandering the vacant streets and littered plazas for some can goods I discover, as the apocalyptic yarn went, the last woman scantily …
Sep 15
Love In the Warzones of the Wild
by Bud Smith when all else fails I will be good no more flip flopping, dragging along, eating dust, dying slowly—pretending to like it unvoided checks, power pills invincible bubblegum, pink frosting fake coins, dotted lines, ripped maps, traffic signs—hope you slept well no, I don’t sleep at all ignored a long time at everydoor …
Sep 15
The Great Fascist Bookfair (tour of amerika)
by Frankie Metro under the occidental, protective stare coming from a hole that utility giants left for water lines & undocumented spy reports, I know where the exact run off from the rain gutters makes noise, while slumping against the chicken wire- displaced Austin novelists drown out the unusually hot summers soaked in Triple Sec …
Sep 15
The Great Fascist Bookfair (euro-tour)
by Frankie Metro you look at me like I’m a murderer w/ your nazi eyes glancing in between the plot against America or some phillip roth s&m grab-ass game that ultimately ends w/ Bolaño’s general nailed to a cross, & his genitals flapping in a rumanian wind until the russians invade w/ the forked end …
Sep 15
Not Wanting To Offend, Not.
by Julia Coleman I often find myself wanting to offend the religious, the sensitive, and those who just need to be everybody’s best fucking, smiley faced friend. I find I want to smack their dopey faces with words like Feminism, Cunny, or incredulous lines like ‘God? What are you stoooopid?’ The ‘happily’ married shit they …
Sep 15
Choose Life…
by Julia Coleman I once had a child sucked from my womb Doctors and other such notables with not a womb among them fixed me properly and I never spoke of nor cared to remember much that small bunch of cells though I was divided from the others alike who it seemed never stood upright …