Poetry

“For the Girls,” by Penny Peyser

Aug 20th, 2017 | By

Putting on thy bra is not an option
When getting dressed to act’ally start the day.
Not doing so will trash a plan’s adoption
And leave one’s girls so aimlessly to sway.



“List of Bands That Must Stop Making Music and Why,” by John Meyers

Aug 20th, 2017 | By

KISS
I think it was a Halloween concert
in the nineties, when they were already old
TV cameras picked up a slice of
Gene Simmons’ ass cheek
visible though a stylish hole in his leather pants
It looked like what you see when
you first open a can of spam



“Tinged,” by Alison McBain

Aug 20th, 2017 | By

I hate to argue with you,
but I must say the sky is not blue.
It is studded by blemishes—
clouds smeared by the oily effervescence
of sunrises, sunsets,
bisected by rainbows,
vivisected by the worm-trails of airplanes.



“Light Fuse And Retire Quickly,” by Patrick Ritter

Aug 20th, 2017 | By

All pyros know
the instructions on Black Cat firecrackers:
Light fuse and retire quickly.
I should have lived my life like that.



“Hamlet’s Solilwocky,” by Tucker Lieberman

Apr 20th, 2017 | By

‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Felt dread of something after death—
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Long life—To die, to sleep—No more—
And by a sleep to say we end