By Vincent Kenny It’s an excuse for a romp really beyond the unspoken unspeakables of civil society How could it be otherwise – to loosen the chains that keep it all…. well - civil! The thoughts behind those flickering eyelids, the un-uttered slowly released …. sigh, boy; that released primeval urge – chemical surge…. Ejacula, ejaculus ejaculorum; Sperm casts into the void – that utero place we called home; (as it was at the beginning, is now, and never ending) We mortal

By Damen O'Brien Three changes of lights occur before she has the nuts undone. The crunch and drum of wheels griping through the intersection are like a murmur or a mantra or The Beatles played backwards. She watches two cars run the lights on successive reds, daring the camera to flash. The cameras blink as belatedly as a hangover. Butcher birds gargle out their chorus in a tree nearby and magpies scrape their washboard calls up and down her spine. The man in the boot of h

By Alan C. Smith There are poems hiding under the clothes strewn on the floor of my bedroom, under the open unpaid bills, caked dead skin in corner sills, many legged wasp-red creatures with stings. I tiptoe through in darkness lest I trample them, get stung, inject with punishing pain, potent poison. There are poems hidden in my water-heater closet under the dust bunnies and petrified roaches on their backs, crisscrossed legs tight to their abdomens, poems squirming in the