Posts Tagged ‘ XI.III ’

“The lovesick tablecloth,” by J. I. Kleinberg

Dec 20th, 2014 | By

I never did love the knife.
Just once I felt his dull
serrations. It wasn’t his fault.
He didn’t intend to cut me.
But after that, his very weight
against me made me cringe.

“Insider Art,” by Bill Spencer

Dec 20th, 2014 | By

Twenty-two firefighters labored to deliver you,
yours a different kind of fire.

“Here, eat this fucking sandwich,” by John Roth

Dec 20th, 2014 | By

Here, eat this fucking sandwich

that I had originally intended to make
for myself but later realized

was no good for me