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New Poetry, Fiction, Essays

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Hail

by Ashleigh Walker

.

Behind the safety of a cracked window, 

I drink in the black-out storm. Dad yells

at the new car huddled under the old oak

and mother softly reminds him the garage is full.

She shadows him, lighting candles in his flickering

wake. With the hiss of a new match, our house

is lit with an archaic light. It is dusty and unused

in the scrutiny of a sky under waves. I imagine

this is what mermaids see: rolling skies, fading patches 

of cold sun, the swimming shadow of a faceless shark.

.


 

Fools Gold

by William Bennett

.

You may hide behind
And wear the lies
Of modern medicine’s trickery
Botox : Dysport : Xeomin
And all of the like
But try as you might
With all your tom foolery
You can’t cheat age
And it’s fragile flickering

So wear it well
Wear it proud!
Wear it loud!

Wear the wonder of you
To announce
Every beautiful
Wrinkle,
Crinkle
And groove
Tracing back your ancestry
Returning to your roots
While earning the scars and stripes
Of all the memories
Of your life

Honored to show off
The truth
Of your sacred face

Who instead remains
Hidden behind the plastic mask
Of a false prophet facade

A buried treasure
Of heaven now
Lost to the world
Forever

{ but not to God }

Where somewhere
Under the mirage
Of the one
Who believes
Their age is a disgrace

The real you
Is displayed
In all its
Naked glorious
Grace…

{ show me that face }

>

William Bennett was born and currently still lives and breathes in Illinois. He is written ever since he can remember and believes writing and creative expression have the capacity to create a safe space for healing and transformation to occur, and is powerful as a form of therapy. He is currently in the process of creating his business called “Heron Heartistry” that will support his talents as a writer, massage therapist, movement practitioner, cultivating and spreading compassion and selling his own line of gluten free granola called “Uncle Will-E’s Crack-a-lackin’ Lip Smackin’ Kick Assin’ Gluten Free Granola,” as well as, whatever else unfolds under the sun in cultivating Love…

>


 

the art of making snowflakes

by Danielle Taylor

>

i bury myself, cold heart, 

to be still for an unsoiled 

answer to my sterile cries

but i won’t commit to any funeral 

unless my prayers stop 

coming back a question- i dig

i plant my garden but only surface

soundless pets, eyes sagging

mouths open like mine

faces still at the gates wondering

what happened

 

what happened was a lifetime of burials:

a window too full of life and sun and breath

to see yourself who is none of those things,

an ocean made of spit and salt and bird shit and 

bodies alive or not alive or half eaten, and 

virulent storms working their ejaculate 

leaving everyone wondering

what happened 

 

it’s just the weather 

we are working, we

are burying we are

singing, just

a death

we are 

>


.

blank hue

by Patrick Murphy

.

i seemed to like it.

the way you looked away from me

the way life tends to keep us distant

 

 

distant from truths turned into fiction.

where we once wanted to see each other

in full color no remorse all picket fenced up.

where the color white needed paint

instead of faded realizations that we

can be turned blank.

 

i wish you painted me on your doors

the cherry red we always wanted.

where my auburn lights reflect the stone pathway

of the hidden color we wanted so much.

 

let my hazel eyes reflect on the surface of our grass

where your tinted beige skin seemed oh so tantalizing.

i wish to stay with you, as you paint my colors

all around you.

 

but color always fades, and life together seems

only oh so faint.

 

its hard to paint when you have the wrong

paintbrush.

 

its hard to paint when our canvas isn’t large enough

to harness any kind of future,

sooner or later you get tired of the layered paint,

and you just let it drip.

 

that is exactly what we did,

we let it drip and fade away

in the grey hues and blank whites

we created.

 

.


 

 

Like Before

by James Dennis Casey IV

.

Dig out the old
Skull
Time for new
Magic

Worn to a remnant
Fighting the evil back
Feel it rise

Move in shadow
Like before

Be whole again
Like before

The absence of the mask
Left face exposed
Feelings run rampant

Place it back
Tie it tight
For now

Remember how good
Hiding was
Dancing in rainstorms
With a long legged owl

Clapping hands
Calling down thunder
Receiving lighting
From a kiss

Never expecting
Anything
Receiving the world

Experiencing intimate wanting
Of light
Found
Behind darkness
Of masks

 

James D. Casey IV is a published author of three volumes of poetry: “Metaphorically Esoteric,” “Dark Days Inside the Light While Drunk on Wine,” and “Tin Foil Hats & Hadacol Coins.” His books are available for purchase through his Amazon Author Profile. Mr. Casey’s writings have been published in print and online several times at places like Triadæ MagazinePink LitterIn Between HangoversIndiana Voice JournalPoetry BreakfastBeatnik CowboyDissident VoiceScarlet Leaf ReviewHorror Sleaze TrashZombie Logic Review and others.

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