The Wasp
Matryoshka tiger-skin lancer: dot of yellow, I clasp your maimed torso; it is like a tiny, weightless bolt, and then that spill of oil: dew on a stark summer morning. By Joseph Bullock Continue reading The Wasp
Category: Written Poetry
Pinky
You’ve changed, where’s the pink ha-ha? Those words linger like a bad smell as we stew like sardines, too few people for a party. I’m wearing something black and too tight and it’s a stinger, your words slice me like the butter knife we use to chop up cake on the coffee-stained counter. Crumbs coat everything, stick to the bottom of plastic cups we’d both … Continue reading Pinky
The Seer
I’m walking into a room made up images.
These are all images of myself
I assumed them from my figurative past,
Now they’re gathering dust on the shelf.
Bacha Posh
At one her father and mother locked eyes
The birth of a girl brought dread to their lives
A parental love, too strong to watch ache
Emerging through doors, a babe in blue awake. Continue reading “Bacha Posh”
Better an Empty House
This house
Is empty there is no
Tenant here they’ve left you left
First but left the door open
In case you’d come back and you
Did, shield yourself from the Continue reading “Better an Empty House”
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Where These Words Came From
I remember how it had once tasted;
The sweet air
The stale fumes
The incomprehensible fly to the flame,
Wondering how he, too, fell for the light. Continue reading “Where These Words Came From”
Ode to the Durian
our fruit king smells like rotting onions, majesty
of prickling green whose skin is the shell
of spikes. his treasures are the orientalists’
fantasy, whose rich gold beyond all
the wildest imaginings Continue reading “Ode to the Durian”
March Mind Control
by Peter Page Continue reading March Mind Control
Greyscale
She inhabits an empty barren world,
filled with vibrant greens which ripple into
rust and violet and corn and maroon,
and bright sunshine that reflects starlight on Continue reading “Greyscale”
