2 Poems by Howie Good

Time and Place

If the heart stops beating, it will send a text message, and you will know that the worst has happened, that a man sitting naked on a stained red couch put a shotgun to his chest, and as you walk through room after sunny room guided by ghosts, night will bubble up through the floorboards and seep in over the windowsills, a scene being repeated all across the cosmos, like the roll and tumble and cascade of a fast-moving river around a bridge trestle or that dark boat arriving at coordinates x and y with smuggled bales of shredded roses.

Life Philosophies

Some people take a pill to try to sleep, others to try to stay awake. The man crossing the street carries an ominous black egg in his pocket. He may be in trouble with the bank or the government, may be on the run, may have no future in Lithuania. Who knows, perhaps there once were ancient whales on the coasts of Chile, too. Only one way to find out, go there, despite having difficulty getting on and off planes. It’s not that I’m here doing nothing. It’s just that this isn’t necessarily the best time to party with Kant.

Howie Good is the author of The Titanic Sails at Dawn (Alien Buddha Press, 2019).

2 Poems by Gareth Culshaw


My window is walled by curtains the light flickers for the moths outside.

A note is rolled into a shotgun. I see my shocked eyes in the shaving mirror.

for me here as the white horse chases through the tunica intima.

Music fills the room taps the floor via my foot. There’s nothing in the air

My mobile phone brings another voice into the room. The haze answers and I hang

up. The curtains are opened by the sun

and I put on my shoes. I take a song

and turn it into a whistle. Then I play it outside under a sky I didn’t know.


The light bulb flickers when we speak then the cat snaps the cat-flap.

The carpet we bought keeps us up from the grave below our feet.

The tin opener has turned time quicker than the clock. Before I met you I heard

the world. But now I’m blind. You can dye your hair to change the mirror, upgrade

your phone, listen to music through deafness. Clean your teeth until your mouth shines bright.

But the kisses I felt are only touches of ice cubes. The ones in your cocktail

on a Saturday night. I turn the corner and leave you on the shelf of a bed.

Gareth lives in Wales. He had his first collection out in 2018 by Futurecycle called The Miner. In 2020, his second collection, called Shadows of Tryfan is released. He is currently on an MFA at Manchester Met.

The Lonely Slog by Sean Stones

Dan phoned in sick today, 
said the chef, looking at me,
like a hawk looks at a mixy rabbit,
in the middle of a desolate field.

He said, can you work tonight, mate?
I stuttered, unable to make up
some bullshit excuse in time.
I’d planned to drink alone. 

It was busy, and sweaty, and fucking
boring. I washed 147 plates.
knives, folks, ramekins and cutlery-
then they all fucked off.

I scraped burnt on pans, as
sweat stood on my forehead
and my once white T-shirt stuck to me,
as if I’d just ran a half marathon.

Chef said, your tips are by the hot plate;
I got half the amount I was owed, and
I stank and ached, and hated. 
I grinned and didn’t say anything-

then I went home, and drank alone.

Sean Stones is a poet and aspiring novelist from Darlington in the North East of England. He is  currently studying a Masters Degree in Creative Writing at Sheffield Hallam University.

2 Poems by Anne Gorrick

The Tongues by Oppen, McPhee-ed

are an apparition
to maintain a public impression of decorum, prosperity, etc., despite reversals
Let’s utter words, express data and find a scent
in one’s house
When apostle = travel
The distance in one day
as splendid
From one place to another
into or to that place
a way of calling attention
to an inadvertent losing of something dropped, misplaced, stolen, etc.
Withhold (someone) from accessibility to a visitor
sometimes replaceable
an influence on a body or system, to produce a change in shape
At this juncture, instance, fame: an aspect of a thing
Compare common and leap
astronomical equinoctial solar tropical sidereal
without surface irregularities; smooth
or fluctuations excessively strict
She is bewildered as to place
to withhold something from, or refuse to grant a request
especially one defining or restricting, sometimes replaceable
the strength possessed by a living being
that physical coercion
with or without a following hyphen
As to the smallest isolable meaningful element
we seek openly and energetically to have
A more or less vertical axis and advancing simultaneously over land or sea, as a dust devil, tornado, or waterspout that belongs to him
implies that the thing or its cause is unknown or unexplained
his a principal carrier of meaning
This is a form of hunting in which wild animals are encircled and chased into a special spot that makes their escape impossible
We have confusion over how to say them
these animal words
One player chases the others in an attempt to touch one of them
who then becomes the chaser


That start with x and bounce
That make you go hmmmm
That need to be invented

That are 50 years old in 2014
That are green and pink and tax deductible
That aren’t there anymore
That are blue in color, are fast

That begin with the letter Y and bring good luck

That can be recycled in threes, in pairs
That cause miscarriages and change the world
That can’t be written off on taxes and cause cancer

That don’t make sense and destroy crossword clues
That dissolve in water and don’t mix with humor

That end with the letter x
That everyone should know
That expand in water
That explode when mixed, emit light, eat grass

That fly and fall apart
That feel like a tongue and float and sink and fit perfectly into other things

That glow under black light

That happened in 1964
That happened in 1954
That happened today

That irritate, induce, increase

That Jesus said and that Japan is known for

That keep you awake
That keep you from losing weight
That kill more than sharks and trees

That live in the ocean and look like herpes but aren’t
That lower sperm count and look good on a resume

That no longer exist, never change, need to happen before the rapture

That orbit the sun, open and close, originated in Sweden

That people collect like poison dogs
That push men away

That queens do
That qualify for disability
That qualify as sin for advance military pay

That rhyme with life, represent spring

That start with a and should be invented for kids

That taste bitter and transform and trigger asthma

That used to be cool and used hydraulics, electricity, electromagnets, gamma rays

That vibrate to produce sound and vanish
That vitamin D does for the body
That vinegar is good for

That weigh a kilogram and will make you cry
That will ruin your childhood and weigh an ounce
That will make your boyfriend crazy and weigh a gram

That are from Florida, that x-ray technicians do

That you can make and sell and take on a plane
That you can make with duct tape

That zip up to go down
That zebras eat
That zig zag
That Zeus is known for

Anne Gorrick is a poet and visual artist.

She is the author of eight books including most recently: Beauty, Money, Luck, etc. for Beginners (Spuyten Duyvil Press, 2019) and An Absence So Great and Spontaneous it is Evidence of Light (the Operating System, 2018).

Anne Gorrick lives in West Park, New York.

Two Poems by Glen Armstrong

Among the Forgetters #79

We will see gold.
Consciousness will progress.
We will wear costumes 

and pull a plastic bee from a tangle
of real flowers.

We will post our hours under our names.

A tame animal will return
to the wild,

and we will cry to find
its hands 

in a campsite abandoned by poachers. 
In the meantime,
we sit here

wondering if the sweet by-and-by
is in fact just the meantime
with a fresh coat

of gold paint.

Slash for Cotton Mather #1

••••• •••• •• ••••• ••• ••• ••• ••• •••• ••• ••••••• •••••• ••••• • •••••••• •• ••• •••••• ••••••••••• ••• ••••• •• ••• ••• ••••• •••• • ••••• •• ••• •••• •• •••••• •••••• YOU CAN RELAX •••••••••• ••• •• •••• ••• •••• •• ••• •• ••••• ••••• •••• •• •••••• •••••• •••• •• •••••• •••• •• ••••• 

••••• ••• ••••• ••• ••••• ••••••• •••• •••••• •• •••••••••• ••••••• ••• •••• • •••••• ••••••• ••• ••••••• •••••• •• •••• •• •••• •••••• •••••• HEY IS WEAK • DO NOT BE NERVOUS THE LAND IS NOW •• •••••••• ••• ••• •••• •••• •••• ••• •• ••• LISTEN •••••• ••••• IN CASE OF A DISTURBANCE •••••••• ••••••• ••••••••••• ••••• •••••••••• ••••• EAR AND •• ••••• •• •••• ••••••• THE BROKEN END OF THE CAGE ••••• FUEL CURRENTLY ••••••••• •• ••• ••••• •••••• ••••••••• ••••• 

•• •••• ••• •••••••• •••• ••• ••••• •• ••• •••••••• ••• •••••• ••••••• ••••• •••• •••••• •••• •••••• •• ••••• • •••• •••••• ••••• •• •••••••• ••••• •• ••• • •••••••• •• ••• •••••• •• ••• ••••• •• ••• ••••••• •••••••• ••• •••• •••• ••••••• •••••••••• •••• ••• ••••••••••• •••• •• MY HEART ••••• ••••••••• •••••••••• ••••••••• •• ••• ••• •• ••••• ••••••• •••••• ••••••• •••• ••• 

Glen Armstrong edits a poetry journal called Cruel Garters.and has two new chapbooks: Simpler Times nd Staring Down Miracles.

4.6 by Daniel Y. Harris


and thymine (T). How false
is the glitz? Rely on a certain salto mortale
when the predicate is denied
3,Source/Original/ShadowBot v3 – March
03/2007,x86,win32. At last, ein Untier. The Nephilim kill.
In the alkali reach, ARYH, traumatic core, δαιμόνιον
or Dogon mask in the Ars Goetia.
Assemblages effectuate the abstract.
Interchange, troia, nod from (Latin: rapiemur),
is evasive later, not inborn. Lock the truce filial insider,
stillicide:  a) Micro-entax b) Meso-entax c) Macro-entax.
Faith. Logic can’t bend this 4,Source/Original/rBot
0.3.3 – May 2004/index.log,botnet,rBot,0.3.3,unknown,
cpp,05/2004,x86,win32. The mediatrix deposits a .docx
in the Lumen gentium and decathects the revenant.
(Not even Baudelairean ennui nor Blanchotian désœuvrement.) 
Agency: the passive structure, postpostpostrevolts.
Refuse collection? In the Sphinx circle, Weyer’s
Pseudomonarchia Daemonum is derived from the Greek
Χριστός (Christos). Mathemes hunt univocity. Not one,
the multiple, is not. Dynamosophy is restored. Seize
fidelity. Enown the Party. Processal flux or vox
populi as militant truth. SAVE UP TO 80%
ON HEALTHCARE and the Spartacus rebellion
5,Source/Original/ZeuS – Feb 2013/index.log,
c,02/2013,x86,win32. Spelunk duplex
lung brackish, the suffix rung’s host,
havoc, then bloodied, signifiers.   
Flâneurs pose a surface, fling clew
or demes, taken up. Unfortunately Fedit and Fbalance
are not orthogonal, well yield. Caesuras

Daniel Y. Harris is the author of numerous collections of xperimental writing. His individual collections include The Tryst of Thetica Zorg (BlazeVOX, 2018), Volume II of his Posthuman Series and The Rapture of Eddy Daemon (BlazeVOX, 2016), Volume I of his Posthuman Series. He holds an M.Div from The University of Chicago and is Publisher & Editor-in-Chief of X-Peri. His website is danielyharris.com.

2 Poems by Kate Garrett

In St Mary’s churchyard

a worn path winds through chest tombs
beech branches throw sunlight confetti
to waltz with grave grass and windswept
rain-pocked benches

you prefer this side of the city
where the traffic is a whisper
history a step from the high street

where you know their names
and they say to stay a while

and you have all day – the doctor
signed you off work with anxiety
for a fortnight when your husband
started sleeping with your boss

and she hugged you and thanked
you for the blessing you didn’t give
when you said she was welcome to him

and you prefer keeping the company
of skeletons—the dead give the best advice

as you read their names inside your head
they always share their own transgressions

and they remind you they know you brought
the dark-eyed boy here (the dead have long
memories) no one is innocent
but some try harder than others, they say

and you wonder if they’d rather be
remembered this way, or not at all

Even in another timeline you would not be together

You’ve had this number for years but never dial it. It’s fixed in fading ink and framed by dust – when there was still a choice to make, you made the wrong one. You find yourself resting your chin on her shoulder, reading a line of letters that make perfect sense until you open your eyes. Her shoulder is a pillow. The love notes are scribbled and scrambled on your palms. You string hours together like spiders’ webs; these light nights keep you awake. You capture each minute with drawing pins – tacking them down, cracking the glass orchid sky before it can nudge you off the edge.

Kate Garrett is the editor of Three Drops from a Cauldron, Picaroon Poetry, and Bonnie’s Crew, and her own writing is widely published. Born in rural southern Ohio, she moved to the UK in 1999, where she still lives in Sheffield with her husband, five children, and a sleepy cat. 

Two Poems by J.D Nelson

deep lime slip light swerkett

a small ball
of green wax

c.w. cracking
eleven angles

that’s the old world
with the wingéd bulls

spider opened a can of coke
& now for the news, he said

that last rotten lettersaurus laughing

dewy insects vs. loading the program

on the edge of the prairie wet and dry

a selenium yarn combo for the post nacho crowd
that miracle color chart changes with the wind

balance of the food groups
to find one waiting on the beach

thinking of the young machines in the river
as the faces melt into the puddle below

the cooking was done in a sandy pit
the juices of all worlds were commingled

J. D. Nelson (b. 1971) experiments with words and sound in his subterranean laboratory. Visit www.MadVerse.com for more information and links to his published work. Nelson lives in Colorado.

Two Poems by Irene Koronas


4 frozen
circles sink in 

                          genetic withdrawal 

500 million 


sugar chain 
adenine base
                           hydrogen bond

aligns two strand
end double helix 


long cap replication
spindles fib


tata box.kilobase
less available       


mixed fuse
vogue abrupts

the plasm 
parity fashion 

a raven 
bites regret

Irene Koronas is the author of numerous collections of xperimental writing. Her individual collections include declivities (BlazeVOX, 2018), Volume III in her Grammaton Series, ninth iota (The Knives Forks and Spoons Press, 2018), Volume II in her Grammaton Series and Codify (Éditions du Cygne, 2017), Volume I in her Grammaton Series). She is an internationally acclaimed painter and digital artist, a graduate of the Massachusetts College of Art & Design and the Publisher and Managing Editor of X-Peri

Lotus Nocturne by John Swain

Her hand falls through water,
lotus nocturne, the spinning flower
illuminates the silver treetops.

Moon at the footbridge, the willow
trilling since she was born,
the sky she could be captured.

Riverflow, her nightshade back,
unable to be turned aside,
her fate alights like a dragonfly.

Night flower, the falling water
crushed in red, the dark wood floods
an amulet, the streak lights open.

John Swain lives in Louisville, Kentucky. His most recent chapbook is Over the Silver Maple.