Uncategorized
-
SUBMIT YOUR WORK — untitled literary journal, no. 2
We’ve begun accepting submissions for ulj, no. 2. email untitledliteraryjournal@gmail.com to submit your art: photos, poetry, fiction or non-fiction. anything will be considered. this month’s loose theme is ‘digital noise.’ (check out a preview of the cover, pictured here.)
-
untitled literary journal, issue no. 1
email untitledliteraryjournal@gmail.com to submit your art: photos, poetry, fiction or non-fiction. anything will be considered.
-
good verbs that aren’t
I can read & read & read but mostly fingers slick with natural oils or grease, one could say (as if sneaking across the DMZ and speaking of the enemy) nothing comes. The tip snaps off under some enormous privilege singular, impregnable & now I’m stealing words slick from Philip Levine’s poem about pubic hair…
-
sense memory no. 1 [revision, 082320121822]
suddenly the sweetness of some fruit i can’t recall memory’s maw models some flowery drupe, not a mango spread across a lisp thin wheat its saccharine spear implacable i heave on repeat, breathe in hopes of dislodging the pneumonic of seeds, split spit and juice — an unmistaken but missing flame [for Matthew Rohrer, 062120121546]
-
American Sentence, No. 3
White whirring fan blades, waves of passing cars, then one idiot whistling.
-
American Sentence, No. 2
Foolish not to sleep when God is watching like Kilroy out in the bush.
-
American Sentence, No. 1
Keep out from under the bed — dust, spiders — wonderful to hide, really.
-
why i wondrously’t
i canonicalize’t lethe your winnipeg youthfully’ll lettering it go to youngstown hearsay it mightiest raincoats i’m justices tiredly of talking i’d feeds siciliana instituted i’m justness tiresomeness of talmudization to yourselves i’ve gottfried taking a shivered i’m justice tire of tallness to yours andrews thawing smitten yourselves’ve heavers it allstate already anything, neighboring of us…
-
why i won’t
i can’t let you win you’ll let it go to your head it might rain i’m just tired of talking i’d feel sick inside i’m just tired of talking to you i’ve gotta take a shit i’m just tired of talking to you and that smile you’ve heard it all already anyway, neither of us…
-
lenny bruce tattoo v5 [08062012]
I time fogs a feather in her handwriting faintly beneath the surface of the mirror … secondhand smiles dribble down my chin but the look into her eyes is our first mistake sun swirling across her pepperbright skin sin on an extant coffeeshop couch II time flashes x x x x x x III time…
wikipoem.org 